


you're the only friend i need

by talkingismylife



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, F/M, Freddie and Regina and Baby Make Three, Gen, Genderswap, Marriage of Convenience, Unplanned Pregnancy, female!Roger Taylor (Queen), gratuitous use of lorde lyrics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26316382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingismylife/pseuds/talkingismylife
Summary: “I was wondering, mama, if you still had Grandmama’s ring,” Freddie said in one great rush, looking just past his mother.“I do,” Jer startled, narrowing her eyes. “Why do you want her ring?”Freddie steadied himself, ready for whatever outcome would follow. “I’ve asked Regina to marry me, and she’s accepted.”Across the table, Kash, who had been taking a sip of chai, promptly choked, sputtering tea all over the table. His mother blanched.“Oh, my,” Jer whispered, pressing her hand to her face as though trying to cool herself down. “Oh. That...that is quite fast, Farrokh.”“Yes, well,” Freddie steadied himself, ripping off the metaphorical bandaid. “We want to have the wedding before Regina starts to show.”Or, what's a little marriage and a baby between friends?
Relationships: Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	you're the only friend i need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [devereauxing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devereauxing/gifts).



> happy birthday freddie

Regina was never late. 

Honestly, it was something that Freddie had always admired about her; Freddie was chronically late in the sense that at times it felt like the whole world came together at once to ensure that _yes_ , _Freddie, all six alarms_ will _fail to go off_ _and your bus_ won’t _ever appear_. Brian’s favorite interpretation was that Freddie simply didn’t care enough about the little things. After all, he was never late for anything _important_. Importance, of course, was in the eye of the beholder. 

Nevertheless, Regina was never late and Freddie always was, which explained how he found himself pacing the hall outside her flat door, worried.

Regina had been the one to make lunch plans, calling Freddie up earlier in the week and ekeing a promise out of him that he would at least _attempt_ to be on time, please and thank you. Freddie had canceled on two separate dates in order to make lunch; there had been something skittish in her tone that had Freddie assuring her that _of course, darling, I’ll be there, you can count on me_. 

But twelve-fifteen had come and gone with no Regina to be found. 

Freddie, who had managed to arrive at twelve-eighteen— a personal record— had waited until the clock struck twelve-forty-five before he left, tossing a few quid onto the table as an apology. Cursing under his breath, he bore the bitter early October wind, folding his arms across his chest as he trudged to her flat. 

Much to Regina’s consternation, the only flat she’d been able to rent with her meager part time receptionist’s salary was a shared three bedroom with two girls she’d known from grammar school, Beth and Ruthie. Freddie had met them only once, and by accident. He’d run across them in the shops and practically did a double take at the sight of Regina in a sweater set and pearls, her hair nicely curled and lips missing her signature bold red, a complete opposite from the woman to whom he had become accustomed. 

The two girls had introduced themselves with the sort of sniff Freddie had become all-too-familiar with, deigning to take his hand with a limp wrist that was more due to decorum than to interest. Regina had been quick to wave him off, the corners of her eyes pinched like they would when she complained about work. The next day, Regina had climbed into Freddie’s lap for a forced cuddle as an apology, writing off their behavior— and her own— as a vestige of their years in small-town Truro. 

(“If I could get my own flat, I would,” she had cooed, fluffing his hair in the way she _knew_ he hated, pinned by her weight and the death grip she had round his head. “But no one will rent to a single woman, so, alas, Beth and Ruthie.”) 

“Regina?” Freddie called, knocking on her door, his ear all but pressed to the wood. “Are you in there?” 

On the other side, Freddie could hear rustling, and then— “Oh _shit_.” 

Leaning back, he waited until the door was flung open, a sleep-rumpled Regina yawning in the doorframe. He’d been accustomed to seeing her perfectly put-together, whether as Regina or Reggie, so the sight of her fresh from bed, eyes puffy and hair rumpled, was a rarity. 

“Sleeping beauty, I presume?” Freddie teased, looking her up and down, taking in the flannel nightgown and thick woollen socks, all the way up to the massive bedhead she was sporting. 

“Shut up,” Regina squinted up at him, rubbing the sleep from her eye with one knuckle. Freddie didn’t bring attention to the pillow crease on her cheek. “I slept through lunch, didn’t I?” 

“You did, you utter cow,” Freddie cried, working his way up into a theatrical wobble that he knew she’d see right through. “Utterly humiliating, it was, sitting there like I’d been stood up! Had to slink out of the restaurant with my tail between my legs!” 

“I’m sorry,” she offered, still blinking heavily like she was just seeing him for the first time. “I didn’t sleep well.” 

Freddie frowned, “Are you alright?” 

Curiously, she flushed, looking down to pick at her cuticles. “Just a bug, nothing major. Kept me up half the night, though.” 

Freddie took a large step back, eyeing her warily. “Are you...are you contagious?” 

At her unimpressed look, he lowered his collar from where he’d raised it over his mouth so as to not breathe in any of her germs. 

“No,” she said shortly. Sighing, she ran her hand down her face. “Look, Fred, today isn’t a good day for me. I should have called, but I’m not feeling the best. Do you mind if we reschedule? Maybe for tomorrow?” 

_That_ was unlike her. Freddie peered at her curiously. “Are you sure you’re alright, darling? Let me make you a cup of tea, you might feel better.” 

Regina smiled wryly, “Do you even know how?” 

“Oh, you bitch! I can make a cup of tea!” he cried, affronted. “That’s it, I’ll show you!” 

In a flounce, he stormed off into her kitchen, her low laugh following him the whole way. Filling the kettle, Freddie grumbled under his breath about undeserving friends, playing up his annoyance. Regina was never one to enjoy a fuss being made over her. He’d lost track of how many times she’d hidden the bloodied blisters on her palms and knuckles, slinking away from anyone who showed an iota of sympathy to care for them herself. He knew that any attention paid to her sickness would be met with annoyance and frostiness. 

Thumping the kettle onto the hob, he made to search for the tea, rifling through each individual cabinet. Unlike his own flat, shared with another friend from art school who fortunately was never actually home, Regina, Beth, and Ruthie had separated their kitchenwares and pantry items, each girl getting her own cabinet. 

Regina’s was easy to find, filled as it was with premade noodle packets, crisps, and biscuits; the diet of poor cooks. Digging through the mess of junk food in search of her teabags, he rifled all the way to the back, coming out with a folded piece of paper. 

To his dying day, he would swear that it wasn’t malicious curiosity that had him reading the letter. When Regina had shoved it to the back of her cabinet— where no one would ever look, she’d explained bitterly— she’d left it folded the wrong way, the words _pregnancy test confirmed as positive_ bolded on starch white paper. 

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” Regina shrieked from the doorway. 

His heart in his throat, Freddie dropped the letter with a yelp, jumping clear off the floor as he whirled around to face an irate Regina. She’d gone white with fury, her blue eyes the size of quarters as she looked from his own shocked expression to the letter now abandoned on the floor, the words still face up. 

_Pregnancy test confirmed as positive_. 

“Regina—” Freddie breathed, mind reeling. “Reggie—” 

“How _dare_ you!” she screeched, flying across the kitchen to snatch the paper off the floor. “How— you have no right—” 

“Shit, Reggie, I’m sorry—” 

She reached out, slapping him across the chest as she continued to berate him, her voice cracking with unshed tears. 

“You have no right to go through my things, how _dare_ you— I cannot believe— I…” 

“I’m sorry,” Freddie choked out, allowing her to continue to hit his chest and arms, her face scarlet with fury. “Reggie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” 

“You— had— no— right!” she sobbed before collapsing forward into herself. Alarmed, Freddie caught her, drawing her into a hug and burying his face in her hair. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

Behind them, the kettle whistled, drowning out her tears. 

*

By the time Regina had calmed down, the top of the kettle had blown off, shooting across the counter and causing the two of them to jump. Pulling away from his embrace, Regina hurriedly swiped her face clean, sniffling into the sleeve of her flannel nightgown and carefully looking away from him, her arms drawn tight across her abdomen. 

“Do you...do you still want tea?” Freddie asked weakly, terrified that he would say the wrong thing and break the fragile peace they’d found. Regina sniffled for a moment before nodding yes, still unable to look him in the eye. “Can you...where do you keep your tea bags?” 

Silently, she pointed to a porcelain pot with _tea_ carved into it. Mentally slapping himself, he pulled a bag free and dropped it into the first clean mug he could find. 

“That’s Ruthie’s,” Regina said, her voice small. 

“Ruthie can _sod off_ ,” Freddie snapped, counteracting his vitriol by grabbing a different mug, watching from the corner of his eye to watch her reaction. To his relief, she cracked a small smile. 

His mother had always told him that in times of strife and sadness, nothing made the heart feel better than a spot of sweetness. Taking it to heart, he scooped two heaping spoonfuls of sugar into the mug, followed by a liberal dash of cream stolen from the fridge. 

“That’s Beth’s,” Regina laughed wetly. 

“Beth can sod off, too. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Freddie sniffed loftily, letting the door slam shut behind him. “Now, your room, or the living room?” 

“My room,” she sighed, once again rubbing at her eye. 

“Whatever will Ruthie and Beth say, Miss Regina, at having a boy in your room?” Freddie teased, realizing a second too late that it wasn’t the right moment. 

Regina laughed self-deprecatingly. “Having a boy in my room is what got me into this mess. One more can’t hurt me any further.” 

“Oh _darling_ …” 

Flinching, she turned away from him, making her way back to her bedroom, Freddie scrambling behind her to catch up. 

Once inside her bedroom— a place Freddie had never actually been before--say what you want about Regina’s inherent unladylikeness as a rock’n’roll drummer, she tended to maintain some sense of decorum— Freddie set her cup of tea down on the bedside table, which was artfully painted white and cluttered with an ashtray, a photo of her mum and sister, and a tattered science fiction novel that Freddie vaguely remembered seeing in her hand backstage before their last gig. 

Delicately, Regina climbed back onto her bed, her socked feet dangling off the edge. Freddie watched in fascination as she hooked her ankles together like a small child, curling and uncurling her toes nervously. Freddie forced himself to look away, taking in the white lace curtains, the plaid bedspread, and the thick shaggy rug on her floor. In the corner was a vanity covered in books, make up, and, in a chipped glass, a collection of drumsticks. Tucked between the frame of her mirror were photographs; Freddie smiled at the sight of one of the two of them, heads pressed together and smiles wide. 

In the year that they’d known each other, Freddie had grown to consider Regina his dearest and closest friend. From the moment he spotted her across the bar, dressed in flares and a fantastic fur coat, he’d known that they would be thick as thieves. He could still remember the way she’d turned towards him, a sneer on her beautifully made-up face and told him to _fuck off_ before he’d even had the chance to compliment the jacket. 

(“You were the seventh bloke to approach me,” Regina had informed him later that night over a shared cigarette, after he’d charmed her over with flattery and praise for the coat. “I thought you were going to hit on me.” 

“Trust me, darling,” Freddie had laughed, shaking his head. “I’m far more interested in the fur coat than your other... _fur_.”) 

The Regina on the bed was a shell of the Regina he’d first met. Curled in towards herself, she seemed so young, and frightened. Freddie had never seen her look so...so _lost_. It was terrible. 

Cautiously, he made his way to the bed and slowly sat down next to her, telegraphing his movements as though she were a wounded animal. Slowly, he reached out and pulled her into him. The effect was almost instantaneous. 

Regina scooted closer to him, burrowing her face in his chest as she practically crawled into his lap, her shoulders shaking as she fought off an impending panic attack. 

“It’s okay,” Freddie soothed. “It’s going to be okay, Reg.” 

She shook her head, her hair tickling his neck. 

“You don’t have to lie,” she whispered. “I know I’ve fucked everything up.” 

“Well,” Freddie pulled a face. “Not _everything_.” 

“Don’t lie,” she admonished again, pulling away from him and swiping at her face once more. “You don’t have to worry, I’m taking care of it. That’s...that’s what I wanted to talk to you about at lunch. I’m...well, you see I…” She trailed off before readying herself with a heavy sigh. “I’m quitting the band.” 

Of all the things she could have said, that was the last thing Freddie would have imagined. 

“ _What?_ ” 

She flinched back before she straightened up, stiffening her shoulders. “I’ve been looking around, and I think I’ve found a few good replacements for myself. I understand if you want to find your own, but I figured getting a head start would be better.”

“What? No, Reg—” 

“As for the stall, I know that you still need someone to help you on Tuesday mornings, and my friend Jo says she can manage, so that’s handled as well. As for—” 

“No, shut up,” Freddie snapped. “What are you _talking_ about? Quitting the band? Not helping at the stall— Regina, have you gone mad?” 

She shot him with a piercing if exasperated looked. “I can’t continue playing in the band if I’m pregnant, Freddie. And I won’t have time to help you in the stall.” 

“Of course you can! Bring the little tyke, teach him how to fold clothes! Regina, you _love_ the stall! And the band, well, can’t you play until you’re too big to reach?” Freddie ran a hand through his hair. “Of course once its born, we’ll take a little break but—” 

“I’m moving out of London,” Regina announced as though she weren’t breaking Freddie’s heart. He stared at her, gobsmacked and horrified. Ignoring him completely, she barrelled on. “I...I’ll be moving up North. To Birmingham.” 

He felt as though he’d been struck over the head with a mallet. “What—you can’t! Who do you even know in Birmingham?” 

She averted her gaze, staring once more at her cuticles. “There’s...there’s a place. A home. For...for girls like me. In trouble.” 

His head was positively reeling. “Darling, Regina, you don’t have to go—” 

“Don’t you see?” she snapped, leaping to her feet and beginning to pace in front of him. “Of course I do! I’m an unwed mother with very little income and no degree! I’ve checked the student handbook, unwed mothers are strictly banned from classes. There’s no way I can hide a pregnancy for a whole year, let alone to the end of term! And, the moment my landlord discovers I’m pregnant, I’ll be out on the street, not to mention the fact that no one wants a pregnant secretary, so there’s my job as well! The band’s going nowhere and I— I can’t stay here! I can’t, Freddie. I’ve got no other option.” 

“What about your family?”

In the whole time that Freddie had known her, Regina had never once mentioned her parents. Clare, she could go on and on about, her Nan, too. But her mother and father were sheer mysteries to Freddie. 

Regina’s face darkened. “ _That_ is _not_ an option,” Regina said lowly. 

Stuck at an impasse, neither of them said anything for a long pause, refusing to meet the other’s gaze. Regina was the first to cave, sighing deeply. 

“Freddie,” she said in a tone that was beyond broken. She sounded like she had been completely given up; tired and resigned. “You just...you don’t understand. You’re a man. You have options, choices. Mine...mine are gone, now. And I’m sorry if you’re upset, but there’s nothing I can do.” 

“What...what about…” He trailed off, almost terrified to even suggest it. He swallowed thickly, “What about an abortion.” 

Regina stilled, her entire body freezing as she stared at him. Unconsciously, her hand dropped to her stomach. 

“No,” she said simply. “That is not an option.” 

Cowed, he nodded. 

“How long have you known?” 

She paused, returning to her spot to sit down. “Officially? One week. Unofficially? About a month, give or take. Since I skipped my period, to be completely honest.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Ever since he found the paper, it was the one thing he’d wanted to know. Why keep it a secret? Why didn’t she tell him? How could she have kept it so quiet. 

“At first,” she huffed. “It was because I didn’t want to believe it. I thought maybe it was just a mistake, or stress. You can skip a cycle when stressed, you know.” 

Freddie did not, in fact, know. 

“And then...well then, I didn’t want to think about it,” she confessed, her hand once more returning to her stomach. “Ted and I had just broken up, we were trying to get more gigs, my course load was increasing— thinking of what might be? What could have happened?” She shook her head, blonde curls bouncing. “But when my morning sickness came in...well.” 

She shrugged as if to say ‘that’s that’. And it was. There was nothing else to be said, really. Regina was pregnant. In a few months, there would be a little bundle of joy in her arms. 

“I am sorry, Fred,” she said, breaking him from his reverie staring at her stomach. 

He furrowed his brow, “Sorry? Why are you sorry?” 

“I know how much the band means to you,” she said in a gentle tone. “I’m sorry that I’ve gone and cocked it all up for you.” 

Sometimes, Regina was the stupidest person he’d ever met, and he told her as much. “It’s _your_ band, Regina! You can’t be serious, apologizing to me, when I should be apologizing to _you_! I should have punched that bastard’s lights out for so much as looking at you! I always knew that Ted fellow was terrible—” 

“It’s not Ted’s.” 

Clearly he must have heard wrong. “I beg your pardon?” 

Flushed scarlet, Regina knocked her chin up an extra inch. “The baby isn’t Ted’s. We...we’d broken up. And, well. It’s not Ted’s.” 

“Well,” said Freddie eventually. “Good. He was an idiot. Had terrible ears, too.” 

At that, Regina smiled. It was small, but a smile is still a smile. “They did stick out, didn’t they?” 

“Tim used to call him ‘Charles’ behind his back,” Freddie confessed just to see Regina squawk in laughter, covering her face in her hands. “He did! Go, they were so big too? And always bright red, it was awful. Never understood why you were with him, he was far beneath you. I hope whoever the baby’s father was, he had much better ears.” 

Regina’s smile fell; Freddie could have kicked himself. “Regina—” 

“It’s okay.” She moved to sit next to him. “Anyways...I’ll let Brian know. I wanted to tell you first, because you...you wouldn’t judge me. At least, I hope you aren’t.” 

“Of course I’m not judging you,” Freddie cried, yanking her into a hug. His chest ached at the thought of how scared she must have been, how afraid she was that he might judge her, or hate her. “I could never! I would never.” 

“Except for Ted and his too large ears,” Regina laughed. Freddie pretended not to hear how wet it sounded. 

“Everyone has a blind spot,” he assured her. “And I will say that he was quite the gentleman, always holding open doors for you and the like.” 

“He was, wasn’t he?” Regina agreed. “Too classy for me, apparently.” 

In lieu of saying anything, knowing that Regina wouldn’t see it as anything other than false flattery, Freddie chose instead to squeeze her just a tad tighter. If he could give her the world on a platter, he would. He’d find the bastard who did this to her and he’d bring her back his corpse to spit on. He’d fight anyone who’d even look twice in her direction, would defend her honor to his dying day. She was his best friend, and he loved her. Suddenly, the realization that this might be one of the last times he’d ever see her filled his chest with horror.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” he whispered into her hair, his chest stuttering with tears as he thought of her all the way up in Birmingham, alone and scared. 

“Don’t,” Regina sniffed. “I can’t cry anymore, I’m all dried out.” 

“That’s okay,” Freddie whimpered. “I’ve got more than enough for both of us.” 

Together they sat on the bed together, holding each other tightly and pretending that nothing was amiss. 

*

That night, Freddie struggled to fall asleep. 

Regina had kicked him out of her flat after another two hours of weeping on and off onto each other, worried that Beth or Ruthie might come home early from work and catch him in her room. She hadn’t told either of them, terrified that word would get back to Truro before she was good and ready for it. Freddie didn’t question it, accepting his dismissal with grace. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he left her, his mind a million miles away as he trudged back to his own flat. 

The rest of his day was spent in a daze, unable to focus on anything other than the thought of Regina raising her baby alone. If anyone could do it, he had no doubt that it would be her, but that didn’t mean he _liked_ the thought of her alone, struggling to care for herself and her child. 

Freddie wasn’t stupid; he knew what life was like for a single mother. He’d heard the gossip, and had seen first hand what had happened when the older sister of a friend of Kash’s had fallen into trouble. Maryanne had been kicked out of the house, left to figure out how to care for the baby on her own. Last he’d heard, she’d been living in the estates in Milbank, making pennies as a cleaner. 

He couldn’t think of a worse fate for beautiful and vibrant Regina. 

Regina, who was born to be a rock star. He knew that she’d had many an offer to leave their band behind, and he wasn’t naïve-- if she wanted to, she could’ve had her own modeling career. She’d done a few photoshoots here and there for her friends, and had once even been featured in a catalogue. Regina had the chance to become famous. A baby— especially one she’d be raising by herself— would dampen those chances. 

Freddie rolled over in bed, clutching his pillow close to his chest. 

Regina deserved fame. At the very least, she deserved a chance at it. It wasn’t fair that she would be robbed of what she was so rightly owed. Birmingham was the last place she should go. If only she could stay in London, Freddie would be able to help her. He’d never looked after a child before, but he could learn. He knew he could. 

He all but sat up straight in bed, his mind reeling. 

“That’s it!” he yelped, a grin breaking over his face. He knew how to help Regina, and how to keep her in London. 

Falling back onto his back, he let himself drift off into a peaceful sleep filled with dreams of little babies and rock bands. 

*

“Regina!” 

Freddie raced across the courtyard, dodging students left and right as he made his way towards the familiar head of blonde hair. She paused from where she’d been talking with one of her classmates, squinting in the afternoon sun towards Freddie. Raising her hand in greeting, she turned to say something to her classmate that had him nod before leaving with a smile she eagerly returned. 

“Freddie,” she smiled, the corners of her mouth pinched. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’ve done it,” he panted, bending at the waist and clutching his side at the pinch in his ribs. “Shit, shit, give me a moment, I ran all the way from the shop, but I had to catch you.” 

“Don’t pass out on me,” she warned, clutching her notebook closer to her chest. “Do you want to sit down?” 

“No, no, not necessary,” Freddie wheezed, waving her off. “Just...just give me a mo’ and I’ll be fine.” 

Bemused, she waited patiently until he could breathe properly again, calling out goodbyes to a few of her classmates. 

“Okay,” he gasped, righting himself once more. “Okay, I’ve done it. I’ve figured out how you can stay in London.” 

Immediately, her entire demeanor changed as her face darkened. 

“Shut up,” she hissed in all but a snarl. “Shut up, do you want someone to hear you?” 

“No, sh, it’s okay,” Freddie soothed, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder that was quickly batted away. “I’ve figured it out.” 

“Freddie,” she warned. “I’m serious—” 

“So am I! If you would just listen, you’d get it,” Freddie rolled his eyes. “Christ, Reg, just listen!” 

She fell silent, her face anything but impressed. “Well?” 

“Don’t punch me,” Freddie begged her before dropping to one knee before her. “Regina—” 

The slap was anything but expected. 

When Freddie had pictured this moment right before he’d fallen asleep, he’d imagined tears. Maybe some yelling, definitely a long and painful argument. But a slap? 

“Fuck you,” Regina snarled, her voice thick with what sounded like hurt. Turning on her heel, she hurried away from him, all but running in her haste to get away from him. 

Dazed, Freddie pressed his fingers to the heat of his cheek, unable to make sense of what happened. For a moment, he had to catch his breath, before he realized that Regina was almost halfway down the courtyard, all but running to her bus stop. Scrambling to his feet, Freddie tore after her. 

“Reg!” he shouted, twisting away to avoid slamming into a student carrying a small library worth of books. “Reg, wait!” 

“Fuck off!” Regina tossed over her shoulder, picking up her pace. 

Freddie had no idea how Regina could outpace him in heels, but in defiance of all logic, she was. Cursing, Freddie leapt over a wall, stumbled over a clump of sod, and almost ate it on the grass. Despite the spectacle, Regina didn’t turn around. 

“Regina!” Freddie cried, righting himself at the last second and continuing his chase. “ _Regina_!” 

Out of nowhere, a large, meaty paw slammed into his shoulder, practically knocking him over as he was clotheslined back. Freddie looked up in time to catch a snarling face belonging to a man who’d probably crawled out of the womb fully grown, right before he was shoved onto the ground. 

“Oi,” the man snarled. “The lady doesn’t want to speak to you, _Paki_. Fuck off and leave her alone!” 

“You fuck off,” Freddie spat before his brain could catch up to his mouth. “You’re irrelevant to this situation.” 

That only led the man’s expression to darken further, the fist holding his collar blanching as Freddie was shaken around. Freddie prepared himself for the inevitable punch, ready to hit back twice as hard, when a piercing whistle cut through the courtyard. 

“Winston!” Regina bellowed, shockingly loud for such a small woman. “Let him _go!_ ” 

Freddie was flat on his ass in a heartbeat, Winston backing away from him. 

“That’s what I fucking _thought_ ,” Freddie muttered, unable to stop himself. Winston took a threatening step forward, forcing Freddie to scramble back up to his feet. 

“He was bothering you, Regina,” Winston scowled with a jerk of his thumb in Freddie’s direction. 

“Yes, and I was handling it,” Regina huffed, hands akimbo on her hips. She was a terror to behold, fierce and furious in her red cashmere coat and wool skirt, her hair blowing in the wind like some sort of Renaissance portrait. Freddie’s fingers itched to sketch her. “For future reference, leave my friends alone.” 

“Regina—” 

“Yeah, Winston,” Freddie sneered, skirting around him to come to Regina’s side, daring to drop a hand on her shoulder. Miraculously, Regina didn’t shake him off, but he was increasingly aware of the fact that he was pushing his luck. “Leave her friends alone.” 

“Shut up, Fred,” Regina hissed under her breath before she returned her glare to Winston. “You can fuck off now.” 

Scowling, Winston turned sharply on his heel, storming off in the opposite direction, cursing threats under his breath as Freddie waggled his fingers in farewell. The moment he was properly out of earshot, Regina turned on Freddie, jabbing her elbow into his ribs.

“Ow! Regina, what was that for?” Freddie whined, doubling over. 

“I am so angry at you right now I cannot even think,” Regina hissed through gritted teeth. “I should have let him knock your teeth out, you stupid idiot!” 

Hurt, Freddie curled into himself, still rubbing at the bruise she’d no doubt inflicted. “Regina—” 

“I don’t want to hear it,” she interrupted. “I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to hear you. As far as I’m concerned, I’m done with you.” 

Flabbergasted, Freddie fell back. “Wait, c’mon, Reg, you don’t mean that—” 

“Don’t tell me what I mean or don’t!” Regina shrieked, her eyes surprisingly wet. Freddie suddenly realized that this was the most he’d ever seen Regina cry in the whole year and a half that he’d known her. She didn’t even cry when she overturned her ankle and was crippled for a whole month, even though her ankle had swollen to twice its size and turned a nightmarish shade of purple. He didn’t even think she’d cried when her sister had called to say that their childhood dog had died. Regina was not a crier, and now this was the third time he’d seen her cry. 

“Darling,” Freddie said softly. “Will you please hear me out? I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” 

She frowned, looking away with a sniff, “No.” 

“Please? I’ve...I’ve hurt you, and that was never my intention. Let me just explain, and if you’re still angry at me, you can slap me again, alright?” he cajoled, reaching out to try and grab her hand. 

Regina, instead, gave him a devastated look, her eyes narrowing in on his cheek, searching for some kind of mark. “Oh, Freddie,” she said in a small voice he was unaccustomed to from her. “I— I shouldn’t have hit you, that was terrible of me, I’m so sorry, I—” 

“Why are you apologizing?” Freddie furrowed his brow as he worked away at his jaw. “It was a hell of a hit, had me seeing stars. You get a lot of practice, smacking away suitors?” 

Regina paled. 

For a moment, Freddie was absolutely positive she was going to faint, and he immediately grabbed at the tops of her arms, holding her steady and she stumbled back away from him. “Christ, Reg, are you alright? Reggie? Can you hear me?” 

“I— I have to go,” she stammered, pulling away from him and all but fleeing in the opposite direction, Freddie scrambling after her. 

“You have _got_ to stop doing this,” Freddie panted, hurrying to catch up. “Honestly, Reg, you’re gonna kill— are you _crying?_ ” 

“Fuck _off!_ ” Regina sobbed, moving faster to get away from him. “ _Please_ , Freddie!” 

“No, no, okay, c’mon, talk to me!” begged Freddie, reaching out and grabbing her again. Unlike before, she didn’t shake him off, letting herself be dragged around to face him. Suddenly, in the wake of her blotchy face and swollen eyes, the courtyard— which was full of six people, max— seemed far too small. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, alright? I— I want to explain. I want to fix this, alright?” 

“You can’t,” Regina protested feebly, looking at the ground. Freddie’s heart broke at the sight of a perfect teardrop falling from her chin onto the pavement below their feet. He was going to find the man who impregnated her, kill him, and then kill himself for making her cry. 

“I _will_ ,” he promised wildly. “Just, somewhere private, okay?” 

Frantically, he looked around until he spotted the music practice rooms across the courtyard. He knew there was one with a broken lock that only took two kicks before it would open; it would be perfect for them to hide. Tugging her by the hand, he led the two of them into the music building, shuffling her down the corridor towards the room. 

He must have been off his game, because it took two kicks and his entire body weight thrown against the door for it to open, but he managed it eventually. The room was small and dusty, and frankly smelled as though it hadn’t been aired out since the Germans were flying overhead, but it was soundproof and private. 

“Is this where you kill me?” Regina joked around a sniffle. Freddie’s heart panged. 

“Only if you don’t accept my apology,” he smiled before gently pushing her to sit down on the lone rickety piano bench in the corner. Where the piano was, he didn’t know. But she still looked a bit peaky around the edges, and he didn’t want to be held responsible should she fall into a faint and brain herself on the tile. 

“I’m sorry I hit you,” she whispered with a wobble of her lower lip. Dismayed, Freddie immediately fell to his knees before her. 

“No, no, Regina, don’t apologize, I deserved it,” Freddie rushed, grabbing at her hands. That only seemed to make it worse. 

“Don’t _say_ that! No one deserves that,” she barked, pulling her hands away. “No one _ever_ deserves that.” 

The weight of her words fell heavy on his shoulders. Somehow, he knew that if he were to push her any further, the fragile peace they had established would shatter into a million pieces before them. The pressure to swallow down his worry and suspicions cut like glass in his mouth. 

“Regina,” he said, tender and open, but careful not to be condescending. “I’m sorry.” 

She flinched, as though his apology hurt more than anything else she expected. He repeated his apology, grabbing at her hands and coming to kneel before her, prostrating himself at the altar of her affection. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, or offend you,” he continued, pressing their palms together like a prayer. “My intentions, though bungled, were pure. I want to help you—” 

“I don’t ever want to get married,” she confessed in a rush, shaking her head so that the few strands of hair that fell from her ponytail would hide the curves of her face. “Never, Freddie. I— like Ted said, I’m not marriage material, and I never will be, and—” 

Freddie closed his eyes, bit his tongue, and took a deep breath. “Ted,” he said slowly, “Was a goddamned maggot undeserving of your love and affection. As far as I’m concerned—” 

“Fred—” 

“ — He is unworthy of any further thought or consideration,” Freddie raised his voice over her, drowning out any complaints. “I know what _Ted_ thought of you and of the band and he has less sense than two potatoes strung together to use as a map.” 

She laughed, her voice thick. “That doesn’t make any sense.” 

“And neither does you weighing your worth against what _Ted_ thought,” Freddie said with an air of finality. “Ted was a right proper cunt, darling, and you’re better without him.” 

“If I still had Ted, I wouldn’t be in this mess,” Regina said to her shoes, still avoiding eye contact. 

Taking a deep breath, Freddie squeezed her hands twice. “Or,” he said carefully. “You’d be in this mess _with_ Ted.” 

At that, she stiffened before collapsing forwards, burying her face in his shoulder. 

“This sucks,” she sniffled, turning to breathe hotly against his neck. Freddie magnanimously decided to ignore the discomfort due to extenuating circumstances. 

“If only that’s what you’d done, darling,” he blurted out with zero thought. 

For a split second, he thought he’d managed to cock it all up, as Regina stiffened against him. Frozen in humiliating terror, Freddie was about to pour his heart out into an apology when Regina let out a shockingly loud squawk into his ear, startling him. 

Pulling away, Regina tossed her head back and absolutely lost her mind, cackling and howling with laughter, until tears of mirth rolled down her cheeks. Freddie watched her like she was insane, right up until she let out a loud honky snort, her hands flying to her face as though they could muffle the sound post-release. 

“Did you just snort?” Freddie gasped, so shocked by the lack of decorum that he, too, fell into hysterical laughter. Together, they practically rolled on the floor, their laughter echoing off the walls. 

It took them ten minutes to calm down. 

There was a moment wherein the laughter had trickled off, only for Freddie to remember the look of shock on her face at the sound, sending him helpless back into peals of laughter. By the time they’d calmed down, Freddie’s ribs were sore from exertion and he felt almost dizzy from lack of oxygen. Slumped together on the floor, Freddie knew that he wouldn’t be able to let Regina leave, not now, not ever. 

“Reggie,” he coughed, twisting where he sat. “Reg, I mean it. Marry me.” 

Regina rolled her eyes, which was in Freddie’s opinion incredibly rude. 

“Stop it, Fred,” she huffed. “Just...just let it be, alright?” 

“No, not alright! I mean it, marry me. We’ll tell everyone the baby’s mine—” 

“And what happens when it comes out blonde haired and blue eyed?” Regina snapped as she scooted away from him, tucking her knees up to her chest and pushing her skirt down to her shins. “What then?” 

“We tell everyone that the baby took after you,” Freddie shrugged. “Really, Reg, it wouldn’t matter, no one would dare question it if we’re married.” 

“And what of Mary?” 

Mary fell like a second slap across the face, and he could tell by the look on Regina’s face that she knew it. Mary, who he’d been pestering Brian about for months, trying to get her number. Mary, whom he’d professed love for to Regina and Brian over a pint or five. Mary, whom he’d finally asked out to lunch just a few weeks back.

“What about her?” Freddie demanded, suddenly defensive. “I— I’ll let her down gently. Tell her it won’t work, that I’m madly in love with another blonde bombshell—” 

“Oh, shut up! That’s not what this is about! It’s not— it’s not fair for you to suspend your whole like to clean up my mistake, and it’s not fair for you to have to give up a potential relationship just because I couldn’t keep my legs shut like some sort of—” 

“Finish that sentence and I swear to god, Regina, baby or no baby, I’ll carry you into the loo and wash your mouth out with soap,” Freddie threatened, narrowing his eyes at her. “You are none of those things, and if I catch you talking like that again, I’ll—” 

“You’ll _what_.” 

He blinked, startled back by the vitriol in her voice and the frost from her cold shoulder. Realizing that he’d accidentally landed sharp on top of a nerve, he switched tactics. 

“I’ll pin you down and force you to give me a cuddle while I sing your praises,” he announced, walking on his knees over to where she sat, manhandling her until she had no choice but to allow him to pull her into him. “I’ll make you listen while I tell you how _smart_ you are, and _talented_ , and _pretty_. How you’ve got decent style—” 

“Decent?!” 

“Shh,” Freddie ran his hand heavily down the side of her face just to be a pain. “Let me _love_ you, Reg. Where was I? Decent fashion sense, you’re a good friend, _excellent_ drummer…” 

“I get it,” Regina grumbled. “You think I’m the bee’s knees. That doesn’t mean we should get _married_.” 

“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, that’s exactly what it means. I love you, you love me, we’ll raise a baby together. Simple.” 

“Not simple, not simple at _all_. Marriage isn’t just something you should just jump into because you feel like it!” exclaimed Regina, gesturing wildly. “It’s important, it’s legally binding! What happens if you decide you don’t want to be a father? Legally, you _own_ half of this baby, if we marry!” 

Freddie furrowed his brow; he saw no drawbacks to that. 

“We’d have to get a flat together, and rings! And tell your family that you’ve knocked some girl up and now you’re getting married! These aren’t small things! What will your mom say?” 

Taking a deep breath, Freddie decided that it was time for him to be honest, completely and fully, with Regina. 

“She would say ‘Thank god my son is married with a child because I never thought he would,’” Freddie confessed, for the first time avoiding her gaze. “She would be overjoyed. It would mean she could stop making excuses for her son as to why he won’t settle down with a nice girl, and put an end to all the rumors.” 

Next to him, Regina froze. “Rumors?” she asked quietly. 

Now it was Freddie’s turn to laugh self-deprecatingly. “People tend to catch on when you’re always looking at the wrong...the wrong sort of person.” 

At Regina’s inquisitive gaze, he specified; “Men, Regina. I...I like men.” 

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” she nodded slowly. 

He eyed her carefully. “You don’t seem surprised.” 

She flushed, “Well, I mean. I...I suspected? But then again, I figured, maybe you were just, well. An art student.” 

At that, he laughed. “An art student? What does that even mean?” 

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to _assume_ ,” she scowled, embarrassed. “It doesn’t even matter, anyways, does it! You like men, well, so do I. You like men and I’m pregnant out of wedlock. What a scandalous pair the two of us make.” 

“Might as well go all in and get married while we’re at it, shouldn’t we?” Freddie offered lightly. 

“Oh, Christ, Fred,” Regina rolled her eyes, but tipped her head to fall on his shoulder in a sign of forgiveness. “You wouldn’t want to marry me. I take up the whole bed, I’ve never been able to make a decent meal in my life—” 

“Neither have I.” 

“ — I _loathe_ doing the washing, and the hoover is my mortal enemy. I’d be an absolute failure of a housewife—”

“When will you get it through your thick skull?” Freddie snapped, frustrated by her lack of understanding. “I don’t want a housewife, I want my very best friend and her baby to be taken care of and for you to stay in the band! Really, Regina, I’m being quite selfish, it would take us _ages_ to find a drummer even half as good as you, I can’t just let you run off to Birmingham all because of a small little mishap! Besides, think of the tax break; we'd be saving a _fortune_.” 

“Oh, well, if _that’s_ all,” Regina chuckled. 

“It is. Think of it as doing something good for the band. Marry me and save Queen, if nothing else. Plus, taxes.” 

“When you put it that way,” she drawled. “I...I’m not saying yes. But I’ll consider it. That’s it, alright?” 

Relief washed over Freddie so fast he felt dizzy with it. “Yes, yes, that’s _more_ than alright. Consider it, okay? Just— just consider it.” 

Sticking her finger in his face, Freddie couldn’t help but delight at the image of her disciplining her child— _their_ child. 

“I’m making no promises,” she repeated, wagging her finger again. “But I’ll think on it.” 

Tugging her close, he couldn’t help but hide his grin into her hair. She had no idea, but he was gonna convince her to marry him, one way or another. 

*

He decided that he would give her a week to make up her mind. Ideally, he would have knocked down her door the next morning demanding an answer, but he understood that decisions like this were better thought-through carefully, and not made willy-nilly. A week was probably enough time. That didn’t stop him from spending all his spare time staring at the phone, urging it to ring. 

It certainly didn’t help that Regina begged off band practice, claiming a case of food poisoning that Freddie knew was really morning sickness. It took all of his willpower not to go straight to her flat and carry her back to his own to spoon feed her some of his mama’s curry until she felt better. But Freddie knew the importance of a secret; certain things were better kept close to the chest, not revealed before their time. 

So, he sat and waited for Regina to come to him. She was like a skittish cat who needed love and affection from a distance, who needed to be _shown_ that she could be taken care of, instead of having it forced upon her. If he was patient and cautious, she would come to him. 

He could wait if it meant everything would be okay. 

*

The phone rang at exactly six-thirty-seven p.m. on Wednesday, five days after Freddie had knelt on the floor of the practice room and proposed to Regina. He’d been carefully cleaning up a Tupperware from one of the many containers of _dhansak_ his mum had sent him home with after last week’s dinner, and had been so startled at the sound that he practically threw the sponge across the room. 

Rushing to pull off his Marigolds— Freddie took pride in his appearance, the last thing he ever wanted was to have chapped hands, _thankyouverymuch_ — he seized the phone from the hook. 

“Hello?” he breathed, clutching at the receiver with both hands. “Regina?” 

_“What? No, Freddie, it’s me. Erm, Brian. Were you expecting Regina?_ ” 

Freddie closed his eyes and sighed heavily, “Hulloa, Brian. No, no, just thought she might call. How are you?” 

_“I’m doing well, thanks, mate! Just been busy with juggling classes, and the band. Plus, things are looking up with me n’Chrissie—”_

Freddie slumped back against the kitchen counter, offering a noncommittal hum every now and then as he inspected the chipped black varnish on his nails. He’d have to repaint them soon; in his humble opinion there was nothing tackier than chipped polish. Just looked like he didn’t care about his appearance, which was the complete opposite of reality. Maybe he’d get Regina to help him, she did have a rather steady hand. Although, was varnish bad for the baby? All those chemicals, it couldn’t be good for her to be inhaling them, could it? 

He frowned. What else had he been doing around her that could be bad? He knew that alcohol was definitely not good, but were cigarettes? Could _he_ smoke around her, or was that bad, too? His mother would know; he made a mental note to give her a call. Of course, once Regina gave him permission to tell. 

“ _Fred? Freddie? You still there?_ ” 

Freddie shook himself awake, returning to Brian. “Sorry, darling, what were you saying? I got lost in my thoughts.” 

_“If now is a bad time—”_

“No, no, now is fine,” Freddie sighed. “Just tired. Honestly, I’m perfectly exhausted, been a long day working at the stall.” 

“ _Of course, of course. I’d hate to take up too much of your time, but I was wondering. Have you, erm, have you heard from Regina lately?_ ” 

Freddie stilled, his grip tightening on the receiver. 

“Why?” he asked, cautious. “Is something...is something the matter?” 

“ _I’m not sure, to be honest. That’s why I’m calling. She’s been very distant lately, and well, you know her, she’s never one to miss out on a practice. Remember, she showed up to a gig once with a fever and we had to drive her home? I’m worried, Fred. I think something’s wrong. And just now when I called, Ruthie told me she was already in bed, and it’s barely even half past eight. So I was hoping you might know something._ ” 

Brian genuinely sounded worried, his voice fraught with concern in a way that Freddie hadn’t really considered might come from him. Regina and Brian had been friends far longer than he had known the pair of them, more akin to brother and sister than anything else. Brian was far more protective of her than anyone else. On more than one occasion, Brian had towered over men who’d taken the liberty of getting far too handsy with her after a gig, menacing them with his combined height and glower. Tim, when it became clear that Freddie and Regina were gearing up to be best friends, had even warned him that Brian would not stand for Regina to be hurt in any way. From the moment Freddie met the two of them, he knew that Brian was the older brother had never had, and, when he was pulling her out of pubs drunk, the one she’d never wanted. Like siblings, they squabbled and bickered, but when it boiled down to it Brian had her back, defending her from anyone and anything. Their previous bassist had been unceremoniously dumped from the band following an incident for which Freddie still didn’t have the whole story; only that it had ended with Brian nearly breaking his hand and Regina buying a new pair of drumsticks. 

“No, sorry,” Freddie lied. “I, uh, I don’t know anything. I think she’s just ill?” 

There was a moment of silence on the other line, followed by a heavy sigh. _“I’m just worried about her. This isn’t like her, y’know? Even Mum hasn’t heard from her, which isn’t like her-- you know how my mum worries._ ” 

Freddie had once been on the receiving end of Ruth May’s worry, gaining a fresh-knit sweater and an appointment with the doctor that she’d lovingly bullied him into attending. 

“ _I think...Has she mentioned anything to you about quitting the band?_ ” 

Freddie had the terrible and horrible sense that he knew, all of a sudden, what a heart attack felt like. “What? No! No, what, why would you— how could you— what?” he shrieked. 

“ _She’s been so cagey now, and we haven’t been talking, and the only thing I can think of is that she’s finally taken up Peter Gabriel’s offer to come drum for his band. I saw him lurking around our last gig; he’s been trying for ages_.” 

Was the kitchen spinning? Or was it just Freddie? 

“I know nothing about that! Regina would never—Queen is practically her baby!” he sputtered before letting out a shriek. “Not that it’s a baby, I mean, no baby! No baby, at all!” 

“ _Are...are you alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I just...I’m worried about her_. _You’re sure you haven’t heard anything from her_?” 

“Absolutely nothing! I’ve heard nothing, not a peep! Not one single guttural grunt!” Freddie stammered, wincing as each word poured out of his mouth. Closing his eyes, he hit his head against the cabinet, willing for someone to come along and put him out of his misery. 

“ _O...kay. Well, if you hear anything, will you let me know? And let her know that if she needs anything, or wants to talk, she can come to me_.” 

“Of course! Yes, of course, will do, yes, for sure, I’ll let her know,” Freddie babbled. “Alright, Brimi, I’ve got to go, got more pots to clean and erm, the late show’s about to come on, and well, it’s been lovely, but I must go!” 

“ _Oh, alright. Goo—”_

Freddie slammed the phone down without bothering to hear Brian’s goodbye. Under any other circumstances, he’d be horrified at his lack of manners, but desperate times and all that. Groaning long and loud, he abandoned the remaining dishes in the sink in favor of throwing himself dramatically across his bed and attempting to smother himself with a pillow. 

*

Freddie loved his little stall. He always prided himself on his keen eye for fashion, for keeping his finger on the pulse of the latest trends. The days he spent searching for new clothes to sell and the nights spent fixing up worn clothes until they were good-as-new were rewarding enough. Sure, there wasn’t loads of money to be made selling things second hand, but it (mostly) kept the lights on. There was always a need for second hand clothes, those little treasures with stories to be told. He could convince anyone to buy anything if he talked long enough, steering customers away from unflattering colors or jackets that would wear _them_ , instead turning their attention toward something that could transform a pauper into a prince. . It was a comfort to be among the very things that he loved best, taking rags and repurposing them as riches for others. 

That said, if he had to fold one _more_ pair of trousers, he would hang himself from the ceiling with the stray clippings of denim and corduroy that adorned the far corners of the stall. There was only so many times he could ensure that each pair was perfectly aligned with the other before he wanted to throw his hands in the air and merely drop them all in a bucket for someone else to sort through. 

He was slumped on the floor in the middle of wrangling a specific pair of flares that Regina had assured him would sell quickly six months prior, when the devil herself made her appearance known. 

“You’re creasing them,” she critiqued from above, her voice both a welcome reprieve and a curse. 

“Then you do them,” he huffed, tossing them at her feet. “Don’t know how you even talked me into buying them, they’ve got a massive hole in the crotch. 

Regina carefully stooped to grab them from the floor, holding them up to the light to inspect the tear along the seam. 

“Just needs a quick stitch, or a patch,” she shrugged, squinting at the edges. “Have you got a needle and thread?” 

He jerked his head in the direction of the cake tin that served as his sewing kit, lovingly stashed under the counter they used as a cash box. Fishing out a needle, thimble, and spool of white thread, Regina perched herself up on the edge of the counter, ignoring his protests that it was unprofessional. She carefully stitched the rip closed in small, measured movements, the needle flashing under the sallow light. 

“I’ve given it some thought,” Regina said measuredly, watching the needle easily pass through denim. “And I’ve made up my mind.” 

“Oh?” said Freddie with all the confidence that he did not possess. “And what have you decided?” 

She looked up, eyeing him carefully. “I have conditions,” she announced, ignoring him. “I want a contract, something the two of us agree upon.” 

“Done,” said Freddie. 

“I want to be the one to tell people, on my own terms.” 

“Of course.”

“And I don’t want this to change anything,” she finished, knotting the thread and cutting the excess with a smart snip of the scissors. “If this changes our relationship beyond what it would already entail, I reserve the right to end it.” 

“Goes without saying,” he agreed. “I’d hate to lose you over something so trivial as marriage.” 

She grimaced as she tucked the sewing kit back under the counter, keeping her hands busy. 

“That’s my final point,” she stressed, crossing her arms over her chest. “If for any reason I want out, that’s it. You don’t fight me, you don’t try to take the baby, nothing. If I call it quits, there’s no debating it.” 

That gave him pause, and he could tell it made her uncomfortable. Screwing up his face, he hesitated to ask, “Could I at least ask you why? Beforehand. Just in case I can fix it?” 

She eyed him wearily. “You can ask. Doesn’t mean I’d tell you.” 

As strange a request as it was, it made sense. He nodded, just once, and stuck his hand out for her to shake. “Done.” 

Hesitantly, she took his hand in hers and returned the handshake, a tentative smile forming on her face. Freddie matched it with a much larger, far more ecstatic one of his own. 

“I noticed you said nothing about me picking out your ring,” he grinned, watching as she groaned playfully. 

“Nothing too gaudy! I don’t even need a ring,” Regina rolled her eyes. “Just a plain band, that’s all.” 

“What? No, no, no, darling, you’re my fiancée! You need something fit for the queen you are!” he protested. “How do you feel about emeralds? Or opals! An opal would look so lovely with your skintone—” 

“Fred, I’m serious,” Regina warned, frowning slightly. “I want as little fuss as possible. I don’t want you spending any more than twenty quid—” 

“ _Twenty quid_? For your engagement ring? Have you gone absolutely daft?” Freddie’s jaw dropped. “That would barely get you a trinket!” 

“I think I still have my class ring,” Regina mused, looking down at her left hand with a raised eyebrow. “We can use that.” 

“ _Never!_ ” 

She sighed again, looking around the stall. “We can find something nice second hand. I mean it, I don’t want you spending a cent on me that you don’t have to. In fact, I want that in the contract: we only spend our own money, no one else's.” 

“That’s where I have to put my foot down,” Freddie shook his head. “We’re going to have a baby, Reg. A _baby_. Those cost money, you know. We’ll have to pool our finances.” 

She frowned, mulling it over. 

“Fine; we can pool our finances but _only_ for the baby. I don’t want you buying something outlandish or outrageous for me. _You_ can buy yourself the largest rock in the store. But I just want something small. Simple.” 

Freddie nodded, pretending that he was paying attention to her. Of _course_ he was going to get her something gorgeous; after all, it was his child she was supposedly carrying, and it was _him_ she was marrying. Why wouldn’t he get her something brilliant? 

“I’ll have a look at the other stalls,” he said absentmindedly, thinking of where he might find something that would work. “I’m sure I can find something lovely for a steal.” 

She smiled, relieved. 

“I just want you to know, Fred,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “If, for whatever reason, you don’t want to do this, or you want out, you can say so. I won’t...I won’t get upset at you. You can bail, whenever. I’m not expecting a lot from you. This is already more than I could ever imagine.” 

Regina must have been lacking in good friends down in Truro if she was so shocked to find that he would literally lay down in front of a train for her. A little slip of paper and some co-parenting were the least he could do. 

“Reggie, I mean this with all my heart,” he said carefully, just in case she didn’t want to believe it. “You are somehow both the dumbest and smartest person I’ve ever met. I’m _honored_ to be your husband, and I’ll do anything and everything you need me too.” 

If her smile looked a little wobbly around the edges, Freddie didn’t say anything. “This baby is gonna be so lucky to have you in its life,” she said thickly. 

It took him three tries to clear his throat before he could croak back; “ _Our_ baby.” 

*

Sunday night dinners were a time honored tradition in the Bulsara family. While Sunday dinners meant a full roast for Proper English Families, Jer Bulsara would never dare to subject her family to the same. Her dinners were overwhelmingly colorful, exploding with spices and flavors that melted on the tongue, washed down with fresh brewed chai and coconut toddy. Rarely was there any room on the table for their own plates, let alone more food. Freddie would often stumble home, stuffed to the brim and practically bursting at the seams, his arms laden with shopping bags packed with prepared meals for the whole week. 

A typical Sunday night meant the comfort of his family, just basking in their company, relaxed and at-ease and well-fed. _This_ Sunday night, on the other hand, was anything but. 

Regina had given him permission to tell his family; the two of them wanted to have the wedding before she started to show, and by her own admission, that was three weeks at best. Freddie had already phoned the register’s office and managed to secure a date two weeks out on a Saturday afternoon. The sooner he told his family, the better. 

The only problem was that he was absolutely bricking it. 

He wouldn’t say that his family intimidated him, but he had never had to look his parents in the eye, admit that he was getting married, and lie about the parentage of his intended bride’s child.. He’d laid awake into the wee hours of Saturday night picturing the scene: his mother, falling over the table and weeping about her disgraceful son into the spilled _kachumbar_ , his father grabbing him by the collar and throwing him out onto the street. 

He was man-enough to admit that a huge part of this cockamamie scheme that’d he concocted revolved around his family supporting them. After all, whenever he found his finances to be tight or his pantry running low, it was his family he turned to first. Where would he go, if Regina and the baby needed more support? 

Sitting on the Tube, he couldn’t stop his leg from jiggling, nor could he keep his fingers out of his mouth. Half the nails on his right hand were completely chewed off, and the left was already looking similar. He almost missed his stop too, startling out of his panicked daydream right before the doors were about to close, nearly losing his foot to the automatic doors. 

The walk to his house felt even longer than usual, each step taking all his energy as he wandered home. Twice he almost doubled back, ready to throw in the towel and tell Regina they could make do without telling his family. It was only the thought of her face, at being kept a dirty secret, that had him making his way to the front door, taking a deep breath, and knocking. 

A brief moment, a crash on the other side of the door, and then— 

“Farrokh!” his mother cried, her smile blinding, if confused. “Why did you knock? You know we always leave the door unlocked for you!” 

“Hello, mama,” he said around a smile that felt too brittle. “You look beautiful today.” 

Jer blushed, swatting at his chest with false modesty. “You flatter me, _beta_. Come, give me a kiss. Who are you, acting so shy? What did you do with my brash little boy?” 

Freddie cringed internally, bending over to press the requested kiss to the fine arch of her cheek, taking in the scent of curry paste and her musky perfume, memorizing it for fear that this might be his last dinner with his family. When he pulled away, whatever he was thinking must have shown on his face, his mama’s eyes as sharp as ever as he placed both hands on his cheeks, searching for answers in the crinkled furrow of his brow. 

“Farrokh? What’s wrong?” she asked, lowly. “Are you doing alright? Do you need more money?” 

He would, Freddie knew. But he had bigger things to ask than for money. 

“No, mama,” he lied. “I’m just...I’m tired.” 

Her eyes searching, she nodded just once before letting him go. “Well, go say hello to your father and sister, they’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.” 

“No, I haven’t!” Kashmira called from the direction of the living room, her outburst followed by the familiar sound of a newspaper smacking against the top of someone’s head. 

“ —mira, be nice,” Bomi admonished, barely moving from his perch on his armchair. “Farrokh, good to see you.” 

“You, too, Baba.” Freddie bent over the chair to kiss his father before circling back to the couch where Kashmira had sprawled out, leaving no space for him. Without a second thought, he plopped down right onto her stomach, taking pride in the resulting _oof_. 

“ _Freddie_ , you heifer,” Kashimra grunted, punching him in the kidneys. “Gerroff, I can’t _breathe!_ Baba, _help_!” 

“You should have thought of that before you took up all the couch, Kashi,” Bomi admonished from behind his newspaper, refusing to even look towards them. 

Freddie, being the proper older brother that he was, bounced. 

“I am so glad that I spent all these hours making dinner for my family, only to have it grow cold on the table,” Jer sighed from behind the couch. 

As much fun as it was to torture his little sister, eating was much more thrilling. With one final bounce— and yelp from Kash— Freddie pushed off his sister, making his way to his designated seat at the table. Kash settled down across from him, a scowl on her face that matched the intensity of the kick directed at his shin. It took all his willpower not to flinch. 

“Bitch,” he hissed. 

“Twat,” she returned.

“Children,” warned their mother, forcibly handing the two of them clean plates. “Just once, I ask for a nice dinner, none of your dramatics. Is it too much to ask for two children that respect one another?” 

Shame bubbled up his throat. He avoided her eyes. 

“Sorry, mama,” he muttered, raising his hand to chew on his nails once more, completely missing the startled look she gave him. 

“Dinner looks wonderful, _sheereen-am_ ,” Bomi announced as he came to the table. 

“Yes, mama, I think this is the best you’ve ever made,” Kash smiled sweetly. “In fact, I think this is the best meal _ever_ —” 

“Flattery will not get you out of doing the dishes,” Jer interrupted. Kash’s mouth closed with a _click_. Jer reached over and clucked Kash under the chin. “But thank you, _khoshgelam_.” 

Grabbing the serving spoon closest to him, Freddie filled his plate with as much food as he could fit. If, perchance, this was the last time he’d be welcomed at his family’s table, he wanted to take advantage of it while he still could. So busy was he with eating that he didn’t notice his parent’s worried looks until dinner was almost over. 

“Farrokh,” Jer said carefully, lowering her fork onto her plate. “Are you alright?” 

Freddie shoveled another mouthful of _dal_ into his mouth to prolong speaking. “M’fine,” he grunted once his mouth was clear, quickly taking another large bite. 

“Nothing is troubling you? You seem upset,” Jer continued, reaching over to place her hand— warm and soft— over his. He imagined throwing himself onto his knees and burying his face in her lap, like he did when he was a child and frightened. 

Instead, he took a deep breath, wiped his mouth clean with his napkin, and shifted in his seat. No time like the present when it came to the truth. 

“I was wondering, mama, if you still had Grandmama’s ring,” Freddie said in one great rush, looking just past his mother. 

“I do,” Jer startled, narrowing her eyes. “Why do you want her ring?” 

“What is this about, Farrokh?” Bomi questioned. “Do you need more money?”

Freddie steadied himself, ready for whatever outcome would follow. “I’ve asked Regina to marry me, and she’s accepted.” 

Across the table, Kash, who had been taking a sip of chai, promptly choked, sputtering tea all over the table. His mother blanched. 

“You— you have?” 

“Yes,” Freddie continued, clenching his hand in his lap into a tight fist. “In fact, we’ve already called the register, and the wedding is in two weeks. On Friday. At two-thirty,” he added as an afterthought. 

“Oh, my,” Jer whispered, pressing her hand to her face as though trying to cool herself down. “Oh. That...that is quite fast, Farrokh.” 

“Yes, well,” Freddie steadied himself, ripping off the metaphorical bandaid. “We want to have the wedding before Regina starts to show.” 

Jer turned impossibly white, while across the table, Kash’s eyes were the size of fifty pence coins. He deliberately ignored his father, he didn’t need to see the look of disappointment on his face. 

“ _Show?_ ” Jer repeated in a strangled tone. “What— Farrokh, is she— ?”

“Pregnant?” Freddie asked daintily, trying to mask his nerves with indifference. “Yes, mama, she is. I’ve asked her to marry me, to raise our child together. I would love for you to come, of course, but I understand—” 

“ _Farrokh Bulsara, you are engaged to a woman and you didn’t bring her here to meet me first?_ ” Jer shouted, her face turning a horrible shade of red that Freddie had never seen before. Cowed, Freddie leaned back in his seat, terrified that Jer would reach out and strangle him. “How _dare_ you just announce this to me without letting me prepare something special for her! How she must feel, thinking that we do not care! I— I would have made _salli ma margi_ or— or— _Farrokh!_ ” 

“Mama—” 

“Bomi,” Jer interrupted, jumping to her feet and rushing to the kitchen. “Bomi! Speak to your son!” 

“Farrokh,” Bomi grunted, his voice thick with emotion. “We are disappointed in your actions—” 

“A _wedding!_ ” Jer wailed from the kitchen. 

“Now, wait,” Freddie snapped, growing angry. 

Jer bustled back into the dining room, the old family book of recipes in one hand and her rolodex in the other. Throwing herself back into her chair, she immediately started paging through the recipe book with one hand, looking up only to flip through the rolodex. 

“Two weeks is not enough time to plan a wedding!” Jer bemoaned. “Where will I order the mutton? What will Regina think of us, if we cannot provide her a proper wedding?” 

Freddie was so startled, he couldn’t think for a moment; the only thing running through his brain was white noise. “A...a wedding?” 

“Yes!” Jer exclaimed, looking up from her book only to glare at him. “She will think us terrible! Oh, Farrokh, how _could_ you?” 

“You’re upset about...the wedding?” Freddie repeated, stunned. “Not the fact that she’s pregnant?” 

“ _I_ can’t believe her standards are so low,” Kash sniffed. “Having a baby with _you_?” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Freddie rolled his eyes. 

“Farrokh! Do not speak to your sister that way!” Bomi corrected. “Honestly, Farrokh, how could you do this to poor Regina? Does she not deserve a nice wedding? Marrying her at the registry like she is no good—” 

“That is not my intention!” 

“ — Not giving your mother enough time to properly prepare,” Bomi continued. “Did we not raise you to be a good man?” 

“Kashi,” Jer waved a cardstock in front of Kash’s face. “Call your Auntie Roshni—” 

“Mama, no,” Freddie yelped. The look she sent him was enough to have him cowering back, but not enough to silence him. “Regina and I want a small affair, honestly, not lots of people—” 

“Do you want people to think we are ashamed of our daughter-in-law?” Jer snapped. “People will think we are too poor to properly welcome her into our family, is that what you want? For people to think that we do not want to give her everything that we can? Or that we’re ashamed of our future grandchild?” 

“What? _No!_ ” 

Jer rubbed at her temples, muttering curses under her breath. “To think that I raised a boy who would do this to his fiancee— who would do this to me!” 

“It wasn’t exactly planned,” Freddie sulked. 

“Why did you not bring her here?” Bomi demanded. “Are you ashamed of us?” 

“No! I just— I wanted to be the one to tell you,” Freddie slumped in his seat. In all his nightmares, he never imagined that his parents would be more upset over the lack of timing than they were the out-of-wedlock-child and shotgun wedding. 

“You will bring her over here this week!” Jer demanded. “What does she like to eat?” 

“I don’t know!” 

“You don’t know? You don’t know what she likes to eat?” Jer all but shrieked, clutching at her chest. “What will I make her? Does she even _like_ curry?” 

In all honesty, Freddie didn’t actually know if Regina liked curry. But then again, he’d never seen her turn down any sort of food if it were free. He assumed that it would be the same in this case, that Regina would eat whatever Jer placed before her. 

“Yes,” Freddie said. “She does.” 

“I could kill you,” Jer threatened, wagging her finger in his face. “I could kill you right now!” 

“Do you want me to call her and have her come over now?” Freddie asked, getting up from his seat. 

“No!” Jer shrieked, throwing herself onto him to force him back into his seat. “I haven’t cleaned! Look at the state of this house, it isn’t fit for her!” 

Freddie looked around; the home was spotless as ever, not a speck of dust in sight. He said as much, just to watch Jer groan in distress. 

“Poor Regina,” Kash smirked, still holding the card stock. “Stuck with _you_ forever.” 

“Oh,” Jer wailed, wringing her hands. “What Regina must think of us!” 

“Mama, Regina adores you,” Freddie soothed, reaching over to pat her hand. “In fact, she was worried _you_ wouldn’t like her.” 

That did not have the effect he hoped it would have had. Instead of reassuring her, it only served to send Jer further into hysterics. 

“What have you told her?” Bomi thunderd. “Why would she be afraid of us?” 

Freddie was well on his way to a severe case of emotional whiplash from all the different turns the dinner had taken. 

“I said _nothing!_ ” Freddie shrieked. “Honestly!” 

“You get her on the phone,” Bomi demanded. “I would like to speak to her right this moment, let her know that you are a fool of a son, and that we did not raise you to be like this!” 

And that was how Freddie found himself standing around the receiver of the family phone, sharing the ear piece with both his mother and father, waiting for Regina to pick up. Next to him, his mother muttered curses under her breath, disparaging over her son. 

“Please, mama,” Freddie hissed. “Be quieter!” 

“Farrokh,” Bomi threatened. “Be quiet.” 

“I’m just saying, I don’t need her— Hello?” 

“ _Hello, this is Ruthie speaking, who may I ask is calling?_ ” 

“Is that her?” Bomi whispered, right into Freddie’s ear. 

“Hi, Ruthie, it’s Freddie,” Freddie said through gritted teeth, swatting at his father’s head. 

“ _Freddie? Freddie who?_ ” 

“Freddie, darling, I’m Regina’s friend?” Freddie felt a massive migraine forming over his left eyebrow. “Tall, dark hair? We met at the shops?” 

“ _Oh_ ,” said Ruthie, not even bothering to hide her disdain. “ _You. Would you like to speak to Regina?_ ” 

“Oh, no, darling, this conversation is simply thrilling,” Freddie sniffed, sarcasm practically dripping off his words. “Tell me, how’s your mother?” 

“ _I’ll just get Regina for you._ ” 

“Farrokh! Do not be so rude,” Jer admonished. “Who raised you to be so horrible?” 

“Mama, please,” Freddie shifted, avoiding the swat to his side. “Can’t you just be _normal_?” 

“What does that mean? Bomi, ask him, what does that mean?” 

“ _Hello? Freddie? Are you there?_ ” 

Had Regina been in front of him, he would have kissed her out of sheer relief. 

“Regina! Darling, hi, hello, how are you feeling?” 

“ _I’m fine, Freddie. Is everything alright? You sound terrible_.” 

Freddie took it back, she was terrible and he would never be happy to see her. “I...I’m at my parent’s, darling, and— and I told them.” It was silent on the other line. His palms started sweating as he avoided his parent’s gaze, feeling the weight of it all on his shoulders. “They, um, they wanted me to call you. So they could speak to you.” 

Distantly, he could hear heavy breathing, and what sounded like her clearing her throat. “ _They want to talk to me?_ ” 

“Yes, Regina, hello,” Jer interrupted, hip checking Freddie from the phone, plucking the receiver from his hand without a single notice at his squawk of shock. “This is Jer, Freddie’s mother. I am so happy to speak to you! I had hoped to meet you in person, but my son is a foolish boy and doesn’t know right from wrong. To think that I would be upset!” 

Freddie watched carefully, just in case his mother would give away anything about Regina’s current state. He hadn’t wanted to overwhelm her, but when his parents set their minds to something, there was no going back. 

“No, no, dear, it is no problem! I would be honored to make you a proper wedding feast,” Jer smiled, snapping her fingers in Freddie’s direction before pointing to the recipe book. Freddie did as he was bade, fetching the book for her and placing it in her lap. “Do you prefer mutton or lamb? No, no, it’s no worry...Mutton or lamb. Money is not a problem, dear, I insist. Mutton or lamb. Lamb! Wonderful, wonderful, I know the name of an excellent butcher. Do you like _kulfi?_ It is made with pistachios, I have a lovely recipe that we used at my wedding…” 

Freddie watched in horrified fascination as his mother proceeded to plan the entire wedding with Regina over the phone, bullying her into giving her answers in between compliments. It was terrifying. 

“Get used to it,” Kash sighed, startling Freddie. “Mama’s like a dog with a bone. Once she gets her hands on the baby, that’s it.” 

“Oh, god,” Freddie whimpered, already picturing it. 

Twenty minutes later, Jer was wishing Regina good night, handing the phone back to Bomi, pushing Freddie away when he scrambled for the receiver. 

“Regina?” Bomi said into the phone, the tips of his ears bright red. “Hello, this Bomi Bulsara—” 

“She knows who you are!” Freddie hissed, trying to reach around his mother for the phone. Bomi flapped his hand in his general direction, smiling down into the receiver. 

“Freddie,” Jer placed her hand in the middle of his chest and pushed him away. “Let your father speak to her!”

“Oh god,” Freddie moaned, dropping his head into his hands. 

Fortunately, Bomi was a man of few words, and after only five minutes handed the phone to Freddie, who scrambled to grab it. 

“Regina?” he breathed into the phone. “Are you still there?” 

“ _Freddie,_ ” Regina said on the other line, sounding dazed. “ _What just happened?_ ” 

“Erm,” Freddie eyed his mother wearily. “I think my mother just planned the whole wedding for us.” 

“ _Christ_ ,” Regina laughed, breathless. “ _Do...do you think she likes me?_ ” 

“Darling,” Freddie swallowed, still watching his mother from the corner of his eye. “I think you’re the only one my mother likes right now.” 

“It’s true,” Kash agreed. “You’ve officially become the least favorite Bulsara.” 

“Freddie!” Jer called from behind him. “Hang up the phone and let poor Regina rest, she sounded exhausted!” 

“Yes, mama,” Freddie called back. “Regina, darling, I have to go. But I’ll see you tomorrow? At practice.” 

“ _Yes, please. Maybe you can explain what the fuck just happened while you’re at it_.” 

“Only if I can figure it out myself,” he muttered. “Goodnight, darling, sleep well.” 

“ _G’night, Freddie. And_ ,” she hesitated. “ _Tell your mum goodnight for me? And...and thank you._ ” 

“Will do. Goodnight, Reg.” 

The moment the phone was in the cradle, Jer descended upon him, grabbing at him by the top of his arm. 

“Mama!” 

“You are coming upstairs with me,” Jer commanded, pushing him towards the stairs. “You and I have much to discuss, young man.” 

*

Monday morning arrived bright and early. Somehow, Freddie had survived to see it, sent home in a series of hugs and admonishments, his grandmother’s ring tucked away in his pants pockets and arms laden with food. He and Regina were to come to dinner on Wednesday night, and then again on Sunday, no excuses. He dreaded it far more than anything else. 

He was leaning against the brick wall near their practice room, spinning the ring around on his thumb, staring off into space. When his mother had handed it to him— after promptly chewing him out for an entire hour— she had proceeded to demand his plan for raising their child. Where would they live? How would they make money? Where would the child attend school? Would they stay local to London, or move closer to Regina’s family? 

With each unanswered question, Jer grew more and more irate, until she was practically yelling at him for putting poor Regina in a situation where she could do nothing. Freddie accepted her ire with grace, trying his best to keep his temper in check. This was the punishment he would bear, for her. So long as the anger was directed at him and not at her, he could live with it. 

(“Are you seriously more upset that I didn’t give you enough time to prepare than the fact that Regina is pregnant? Out of wedlock?” Freddie finally asked his mother, finally putting a voice to his bafflement.. 

Jer paused from where she’d been shifting through her jewelry box, her face serious. “Farrokh,” she said gently. “While I am not... _happy_ , I am not angry, either. I...Regina is a lovely girl. She will make you happy.” 

Freddie nodded, still unsure of what to say. “I hope I’ll make her happy, too,” he piped up, picking at a feather sticking out of one of the throw pillows with which Jer had liberally decorated the bed.

“How could you not?” Jer smiled, reaching over to pinch his cheek. “You are my happy boy. A happy boy who is causing me a terrible headache, but a happy boy. Now, I want you to speak to your father as well; he might not show it, but he is proud of you.” 

Freddie rolled his eyes; “Apparently I am a fool of a son.” 

The tap delivered to his cheek was just slightly too far from gentle to be considered a love tap. “Well, I didn’t say you weren’t. Now, here is the ring. Be careful with it, it’s been in our family for over a hundred years, and I want it to stay that way.” 

The ring was beautiful, rich yellow gold set with three zircon stones, each princess cut and framed by shining diamonds. Freddie remembered watching the way the light reflected off his grandmother’s hand, red and rainbow glittering off the ceiling and walls in the bright Zanzibar sunlight. As a child sat in her lap, he would play with the ring, spinning it around and around on her finger, mesmerized by the colors and the glitter. Someday, he thought, Regina’s child might do the same. 

“Thank you, mama,” Freddie whispered, reverent. “I…” 

“I know,” Jer nodded, pulling him in to press a kiss on his head. “I am very proud of you, and the things you will do.” 

Swallowing thickly, he merely held her tighter, enjoying the moment. 

On his way out the door, after Kash had demanded to see the ring again and his mother insisted he eat a thick slice of cake, Bomi stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

“Farrokh,” he cleared his throat. Freddie waited on the doorstep, doing his best to school his face for whatever lecture was coming. Instead, Bomi rubbed at his eye under his glasses before once more clearing his throat. “Your mother and I, we...we never thought this would happen. That you would...that you would have a child or marry. And, I, I am very happy for you. Happy for the life that you will have, with Regina.” 

Ignoring the comment about their apparent faith in his ability to find love— or silent acknowledgement that he was _different_ — Freddie chose to nod his head in gratitude. 

“I do wish you had done things differently,” Bomi added. “The neighbors will be talking for years about this. But I do not mind, so long as you are happy.” 

“I am, Baba,” Freddie admitted truthfully. “I’m very happy.” 

“Than that is all that matters,” Bomi said with an air of finality. “We will want to see her before the wedding. And I would like to meet her family.” 

_So would I_ , Freddie couldn’t help but think. Instead, he flashed a sunny smile, doing his best to distract from the notion. “All in due time, Baba. I’ll see you Thursday night for dinner!” 

“Bring Regina!” Bomi called after him, waiting at the threshold until Freddie had turned the corner and was out of sight.)

Freddie sighed, dropping his head back against the brick. For the first time in his life, he was early. Waiting was _not_ something he was particularly fond of, he had to admit. But, knowing Regina, she’d be along shortly, Brian quick on her heels. 

Speak of the devil— 

“Freddie!” Regina called, smiling sunnily as she hurried over to him. “You’re early!” 

“I wanted a chance to give this to you,” he admitted, pulling the ring box from his pocket and offering it to her with little fanfare. Internally, he was horrified to be so boring in his presentation, but he knew Regina well enough that if he made a scene, she’d deck him. 

Even this was enough to set her off, eyes wide as gumballs as she snatched the box from his hand, stuffing it down into her handbag. 

“Not in public,” she hissed, looking around furiously. 

“Why not? Everyone’s going to know soon enough—” 

“I haven’t told Brian,” she blurted out. Freddie blinked. 

“You haven’t told Brian? Reg, I told my _parents_! The wedding’s next week—” 

“I know, I know, keep your voice down! I just...you know how he gets!” she rolled her eyes. “I’m waiting for the right time. 

“The right time? Regina, we’re running _out_ of time!” 

“Trust me, I _know_ ,” she snapped, running her hand down her face. “I just...I can’t just blurt it out, alright? It has to be natural. Nice. He needs to be sitting down.” 

“Who needs to be sitting down?” Brian asked from behind the two of them. Freddie half felt like his heart stopped, and from the looks of it, so did Regina. 

“No one!” Freddie squeaked, pushing past Regina to wrap an arm around Brian’s shoulders and lead him into the practice room. “But it’s enough chit chat, we’ve got a gig tomorrow, got to practice, you sounded a little sloppy last week on your solo—” 

Amidst Brian’s protests, Freddie turned over his shoulder to lock eyes with Regina, imploring her with his gaze to tell him sooner rather than later. 

*

It was later. It was also horrible. 

Freddie would never pretend to be particularly talented with his eye makeup. Sure, it always looked nice, but he _knew_ that it looked amateurish, especially compared to someone like Regina, who could always draw a cat eye with a wing so sharp it could cut a man from across the room. 

“Regina,” Freddie whined from the vanity, flopping onto his back on the bench to frown at her. “Please?” 

Regina didn’t look away from her compact, carefully separating her lashes with a safety pin. “I’m busy, Fred.” 

“You already look gorgeous,” he pouted. “Help me?” 

Regina sighed, lowering both the pin and her mirror. “They look fine,” she said, like a liar. 

“Liar,” he scoffed. “It looks terrible and you know it. Come fix it?” 

For a brief moment, she held her conviction, but eventually wobbled under his puppy dog eyes. With a heavy sigh, she got up from her stool and made her way to him, leaning over to examine the eyeliner he’d already done. 

“Go wash your face,” she instructed. Beaming, he pecked her cheek before scrambling over to the sink, scrubbing off the makeup. After a quick pat with a towel, he rushed back to her, flopping onto the chair. 

“There’s practically no light,” Regina grumbled, squinting down at him.

It was true, the pub they were playing at offered them nothing more than a back room that doubled as a storage room. The ‘vanity’ Freddie had commandeered was really just a wobbly table with a tarnished mirror propped up against it underneath a fluorescent light that flickered every time the jukebox switched songs. 

“I can barely see,” she continued to complain, grabbing his face with one hand and twisting it left and right under the light. “If I stand here, I block the light, but I can’t do anything else.” 

Freddie bit his lip before shrugging, “Just sit on me, darling. No one else is here, they won’t know.” 

It was true, Brian and Kurt, their current bassist, had already dressed and were warming up in the hallway. Regina and Freddie were the only two in the room.

She hesitated, before rolling her eyes, hiking up her skirt and straddling his lap, brush in her hand. 

“Don’t get any ideas,” she warned jokingly. “I’m a good girl, won’t stand for any wandering hands.” 

“Oh yes,” Freddie smirked, his hands falling to her waist to steady her hips. “Such a good girl.” 

“Prim and proper,” she added, tapping his nose with the brush. “Close your eyes.” 

The brush tickled as it swept over his lash line, carefully angled from the corner to lengthen the set of his eyes. He smiled, keeping his lips over his teeth as much as possible. 

“It’s not like you could get into any more trouble,” Freddie chuckled. “I can’t get you pregnant _again_.” 

A glass hit the floor, scattering debris across the floor. 

Startled, both Regina and Freddie turned to face the door where an ashen faced Brian was standing, a broken beer bottle at his feet. Freddie was suddenly, overwhelmingly aware of the incriminating position they were in: Regina’s skirt hiked halfway up her thighs, straddling a half dressed Freddie who hadn’t yet bothered to put his shirt on. 

Regina was the first one to jump into action, pulling away from Freddie and scurrying to her feet, tugging her skirt down in the process. 

“Brian—” she cried, scrambling towards him. “Brian, I can explain—” 

“What the _fuck_.” 

“There’s a perfectly good explanation,” said Freddie like an idiot as he got to his feet. “I—” 

“Are you _pregnant?_ ” Brian gasped, voice strangled, eyes wild and face ashen. 

Regina winced, arms instinctively crossing over her stomach. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out—” 

“What the _fuck!_ ” Brian ran a hand through his hair, eyes still wild. “I—I told you not to touch her! I told you!” 

“Bri,” Freddie held his hands down in an attempt to placate him. “It’s not what you think—” 

“What did you do to her?” Brian shouted, crossing the room in three short strides to grab a hold of Freddie by the shoulders, shaking him violently. “What did you do?” 

“Let go of him!” Regina tried her best to shove her way in between the two of them, yanking on Brian’s shirtsleeve in an attempt to free Freddie. “Brian—” 

“I told you not to touch her!” Brian roared, his face twisted in fury. “I told you!” 

“It’s not what you think,” Freddie attempted to say before he was shaken again. Honestly, if he didn’t love Brian like a brother, he’d have laid him out for even laying a finger on him. 

“Let go!” Regina yelled, almost jumping on his back. “Brian, let go!” 

“I told you she was off limits,” Brian snarled. “I said you weren’t to touch her and you’ve gone and—” 

“I said, _let go!_ ” 

The two of them were suddenly and forcefully encased in a cloud of hairspray. Freddie choked, coughing over the aerosol as Brian stumbled back, wheezing. In a rush, Regina was by Freddie’s side, running her hands all over his chest as if to feel for herself that he was all there. 

“What the fuck did you do that for?” she shouted once she was sure that Freddie was alright. Whirling to face Brian, Freddie couldn’t help but feel thankful that it was Brian and not he who was facing her wrath.

“Me?” Brian sputtered as he swiped at his eyes in an attempt to clear the hairspray. “He’s the one— you’re— he— _pregnant!_ ”

Freddie gagged, wheezing. Christ, who knew hairspray was so potent? 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Regina yelled. 

“What did he do to you?” Brian demanded, glaring at Freddie over her shoulder. 

“Nothing I didn’t want him to!” Regina knocked up her chin, staring him down as though they were of equal height. “What the hell has gotten into you?” 

“He’s _ruined_ you,” Brian snarled. 

“She’s not ruined, you arse,” Freddie wheezed, still choking on the hairspray. 

“How could you do this to her?” Brian continued, waving his arms about. Freddie was genuinely worried he’d have a stroke right then and there.. “Do you have any idea what the hell will happen to her now? Alone? And...and _fallen_? You’ve _ruined_ her!” 

“Oi,” Regina snapped her fingers in his face. “None of that is true! How dare you assume things that you know _nothing_ about. This is why I wanted to tell you somewhere where you wouldn’t have a chance to act like such a fucking _knobhead_.” 

“Regina, he’s—” 

“I am not having this conversation here!” she yelled before planting both hands on his chest and shoving him out the door. Once Brian was fully out of the room, she turned to glare at Freddie, sticking her finger out in his face. “Don’t move,” she warned before slamming the door behind her. 

Freddie stumbled to his chair, collapsing into the seat as though his strings had been cut. Outside, he could vaguely make out a furious lecture going on— he did not envy Brian one bit. From the sound of it, neither was willing to back down. 

There was really no denying it. If Regina was unable to calm Brian down then that was it; Freddie was a dead man. He slumped forward in his seat as he started writing a mental will, carefully planning out what he would be leaving to his friends and family. Regina, of course, would get everything. Especially his fur coat, he knew she would look wonderful in it. His mother would get a few of his outfits, as they were roughly the same build, give or take a few bits. Kash would get his records, if she ever stopped being a nuisance.

Dimly, he could make out his name being, well, shouted. Unfortunately for him, they were blocking the only exit and there was nowhere for Freddie to hide. He chewed his thumb nail, wearily watching the door for any signs of an impending attack. 

From the sound of it, their argument had tapered off. By the time the door opened, he leapt to his feet, watching as first Regina, then a cowed-looking Brian, entered the room. Freddie eyed him carefully, his hands curled loosely into fists by his side. 

“Freddie,” Regina said mildly. “Brian now knows everything about our relationship.” 

“Oh,” Freddie winced. “Everything?” 

Regina narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, but still maintained her pleasant little smile. “Everything that matters. He knows all about...all about our night together.” 

Freddie wasn’t proud to admit it took him a moment to catch onto the lie. “Yes,” he stammered. “Our, our night. Together. The night we spent. Together. To make the, uh, to make the baby. That night.” 

From the look Regina shot him, he wasn’t as convincing as he’d hoped.

“And,” she added, still staring at him as though he were a massive idiot. “He knows about the wedding.” 

“Yes!” This, Freddie could talk about convincingly. “It’s next Friday, darling, at two. My mother is hosting the luncheon after, really, she’s going all out. You absolutely must come!” 

“Of course I’m coming,” Brian snapped, receiving a swat on the arm for his tone. “What I mean to say, Fred, is that I’m...I’m happy you’re taking responsibility.” 

Freddie quickly cut Regina off before she could continue her tirade. “Thank you, darling. Regina and me, we’re gonna be happy. Two peas in a pod, if you will. Three! Three, actually, next— erm, when is the baby due again, dear?” 

“May,” Regina admitted with a grimace. “Late May.” 

_May!_ What a wonderful month for a baby. 

“Our little spring cherub!” Freddie declared, skirting past Brian to place a hand on Regina’s still flat stomach. “What a blessing!” 

“Yes,” Brian agreed, stone faced. 

Whatever they wished to say next was cut off by Kurt slamming open the door to glare at the three of them. 

“I’ve been waitin’ outside for twenty minutes for you lot!” he grunted. “Time to play.” 

Regina cut the two of them a viciously look before flouncing out the door, leaving the two of them behind. 

“Regina,” Freddie called, panicked. He did not want to have to knock out Brian, not right before a set. Couldn’t Brian’s need to beat his chest like a gorilla wait until _after_ the show? “Reg—” 

As he tried to skirt past Brian, he was stopped by a firm grip on the top of his arm, jerking him back to stare up at a furious Brian. When did Brian get so tall? 

“I’m only going to say this once,” Brian hissed lowly. “I don’t think I need to say that if you hurt her—” 

Freddie fought the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that it would not be well received. Instead, he interrupted him quickly, “ —They’ll never find my body, yes, darling, I understand. In fact, I’d rather hope you would.” 

At Brian’s puzzled look, Freddie softened. “I would expect nothing less, dear. I’d kill myself first. I love her, Brian, and I love her baby. I’m going to take care of her..” 

For a long moment, Brian searched his face for any sign that he might be lying, his glare slowly fading into something nicer, more understanding. After a breath he relaxed, letting Freddie go. 

“Alright,” he nodded. “Alright.” 

Clapping his hand onto his shoulder, he let Freddie pass, following Regina down the hall to where they truly belonged. 

*

Once Brian knew, things got better for them. Regina started wearing her ring, despite her original protests. (“It was my grandmother’s, Regina, I didn’t spend a dime!” Freddie protested, all but shoving the ring down her finger.) Once the ring was glittering in the light of day on her hand, Ruthie and Beth found out. 

Due to the fact that Regina’s flat was only rented to single women, that sent the countdown clock ticking; she’d have to move out very soon. Fortunately, both she and Freddie were on month-to-month leases; _un_ fortunately, even with their savings combined there was little hope for them to rent anything other than a bedsit. 

To call flat shopping ‘ ideal’ would be a gross misstatement. It was hard, trying to picture where they would ultimately raise a child together. If Freddie had been hard-pressed to answer, he would have assumed that they would get a three-bedroom flat: one for himself, one for Regina, and one for the baby. Even a two-bedroom would be nice, but it didn’t look as though they’d be able to afford it on Regina’s meager salary mixed with the income from the shop that always ebbed and flowed; at present, it was more ebb than flow. 

After a week, though, fortune seemed to smile upon them. Jer, who had been nothing short of a miracle worker since Freddie’s announcement, had managed to spread the word around that Freddie and his fiancee were in need of a starter flat. One of Jer’s bridge club friends— (“Don’t look at me like that, Farrokh,” Jer admonished. “I need to do _something_ in the mornings.”) — was a realtor, and managed to find them a decent place in Kensington. 

There was only one bed, which was a tad awkward but nothing they couldn’t work around with the help of a sleeper sofa, a decently sized kitchen, a loo, and a bath. It was on the first floor in a quiet neighborhood and there was a lovely little park just a block down the road. For what they could afford, it was a goddamned miracle. 

Moving was a relatively easy affair. Regina didn’t have much to begin with; it took them only one trip to move all her things from her flat to their new place. Freddie, on the other hand, caused more of a problem. It took him, Brian, and Tim three trips in their shitty van to get all his boxes and furniture into the flat. Regina had been forced to the sidelines, much to her displeasure. Despite her not even showing yet, none of them were willing to let her carry more than a shopping bag of clothes, terrified that she might hurt the baby. 

In the beginning, she was offended, but after watching the three of them struggle to climb the flight of stairs with the frame to their bed, she accepted her fate with grace and dignity. By the time all their stuff was in the flat, Freddie was ready to collapse into bed and not move again. 

“Well,” Tim clapped the dust from his hands, looking around the flat. In the corner, Brian and was still struggling to assemble the bookshelf, stoically ignoring the instructions on the floor. Freddie was organizing the closet to his liking, making sure the clothes were sorted according to color, style, season, and preference. There was an art to it. “Looks like everything’s sorted.” 

“Looks like it,” Regina agreed, her hands on her hips. “Thanks again for helping out.” 

“Aw, Reg, don’t even mention it,” Tim chuffed as he reached over to ruffle her hair. Slapping at his hands, she ducked away from him with a squawk. “I’ve got to say, you two are gonna have your hands full when the kid comes along.” 

Freddie frowned. Sure, the flat was small, and they were sharing a bed due to lack of funds and lack of space, but that didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be _room_. He could already picture a little moses basket in the corner, and the kitchen table had more than enough room for a high chair. 

“We’ll make do,” Regina ducked her head as she shrugged. “We don’t need a lot.” 

Freddie eyed her carefully. He still couldn’t help but feel as though there was something _off_ about her behaviour, something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. 

“No need to worry about us, Tim,” he said, deciding to barge into their conversation whether or not he was welcome. “We’re gonna figure it out.” 

Whatever Tim wanted to say in response was cut off by a terrible crash from the corner Brian had commandeered. The three of them turned in time to watch all the shelves of the newly constructed bookshelf fall to the ground, crashing right at his feet. 

“Fuck,” said Brian. 

*

Their wedding arrived sooner than expected. Freddie had spent the night at his parent’s house, as tradition dictated, leaving Regina the whole flat to herself. The entire morning had been spent helping his father prepare for their reception; despite him and Regina putting their foot down and limiting the guest list to their friends and family, you’d have thought Jer was hosting the Queen for dinner. Their best china was placed out, the entire house vacuumed twice, and Kash had been peeling potatoes all morning. Freddie himself had been shoved out the backdoor with a trowel and told to weed the garden, something he had no idea how to do— he had spent all of thirty minutes attempting it before he gave up, creating a pile of grass cuttings that he hoped would pass a pulled weeds. 

Bombi, too, seemed to be overwhelmed with nerves. Their first dinner all together had been nothing short of a rousing success; Regina had charmed her way into the family with ease and grace, completely ignorant to the fact that Freddie was bricking it the whole time. Bomi and Jer delighted in showing off photos of Freddie as a baby, assuring Regina that Freddie’s cowlick disappeared as he aged. Bomi, too, took it upon himself to apologize to her for Freddie’s behaviour in not bringing her home sooner. 

(“Oh,” said Regina, caught off guard. “No need to, um, apologize. We, uh, wanted to keep things...simple.” 

“No, no,” Bomi shook his head. “You are _family_. That is important to us. Family is most important to us all.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “We— _I—_ am so happy to welcome you and your child into our family.” 

At that, Regina flushed, her hand pressing to her stomach. “I…” 

Noticing Regina’s discomfort, Freddie leaned over her on the couch. “Baba, c’mon, don’t overwhelm her.” 

“I’m not overwhelming her!” 

“He’s not,” Regina hissed, shoving him back, the unreadable look on her face melting into rosy indignation. “Mr. Bulsara—” 

“Call him Bomi!” Jer shouted from the kitchen. 

“Bomi,” said Regina pointedly. “I’m happy to join your family.” 

“Now that Regina’s part of the family, I vote to kick Freddie out,” Kash drawled from across the room, not looking up from the magazine she was flicking through.)

It was getting close to noon when Bomi forced Freddie upstairs into the shower, hurrying him into getting ‘presentable’. He was forced to share the bathroom mirror with Kash, him shaving and primping his hair while Kash carefully made up her face. Despite his hopefully outward appearance of calm, inside Freddie was absolutely terrified. 

This was something big; this wasn’t getting on stage and singing back lyrics that he wrote and knew by heart, this was standing in front of his family and friends and vowing to love, support, and cherish Regina and her child. It was a huge undertaking; what if he fucked everything up? Freddie didn’t know the first thing about child care. In fact, he couldn’t even remember Kash when she was a baby, let alone think he even _held_ her. 

And being a husband! What did he know about that? A shit ton less than child care, that’s for sure. There weren’t books out there giving detailed instructions on how to be a good husband. As far as he knew, he was a terrible fiancee. Furthermore, what if Regina didn’t want this, but was too scared of the backlash of being a single mother? 

His razor slipped; he cursed. 

“Swear jar,” Kash muttered under her breath, her jaw dropped as she carefully painted her lashes with mascara.

Swearing louder, he pressed his hand to the knick under his chin, rushing to grab some toilet paper to stem the dribble of blood. 

“Are you alright?” Kash asked, turning from the mirror. “Freddie, you’ve gone white as a sheet. Are you—?” 

“I can’t do this,” Freddie whispered, hands shaking as he struggled to blot the wound. “Fuck, fuck—” 

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Kash demanded, hands on her hips. 

“Swear jar,” Freddie teased through chattering teeth. 

She rolled her eyes, “Kiss my arse. Are you going to back out of the wedding?” 

Freddie flinched. “No, no, I—” 

“Good,” Kash set her face sternly. “Because Regina doesn’t deserve that, after everything. I get that the kid’s not your’s—” 

Freddie genuinely felt as though he was going to faint as soon as her words hit him. From the sound of Kash’s shriek before she rushed to his side, he must have looked it too. 

“Shit, Freddie, I’m sorry,” she babbled, pressing her hands to his face and slapping at him. “Freddie, I’m sorry, I thought you knew—” 

“How did you know?” he gasped, strangled. 

Now it was Kash’s turn to blush, looking away. “I...oh Fred, don’t make me say it…” 

Dropping his head between his knees Freddie never wanted to resurface. Kash _knew_. All these years, he thought he’d been more careful, but now...

“Do….do Mama and Baba know?” he asked weakly, staring at the floor. 

“I...I don’t think so,” Kash whispered, placing her hand between his shoulder blades and rubbing gentle circles. 

“Fuck,” Freddie said with feeling. 

They sat together for a moment, neither of them saying anything. 

“I do love her,” Freddie admitted, almost a tad wetly. “Just...more like a sister. And…I couldn’t let her do this alone. I can’t, Kash, she doesn’t deserve it. Not when I can do something.” 

“I know,” Kash agreed. “I think it’s a great thing you’re doing. A little stupid, but good.” 

“Yeah,” Freddie nodded. He paused, then, “Think of the tax break, though.” 

That sent Kash in a fit of giggles. “Only you would marry your best friend for the tax break.” 

“Plus, think of all the lovely gifts we’re going to get,” Freddie added, trying to prolong the good mood. “I think mama’s bought us new china.” 

“I bought you nothing,” Kash admitted. “Only something for Regina.” 

“Where’s the sibling loyalty?” Freddie cried in false offense. 

“Regina is technically now my sister,” sniffed Kash. “That’s why I bought her earplugs for your snoring.” 

“And to think I was going to make you godmother,” Freddie shook his head. Kash whacked him with her elbow. 

Resting her head on his shoulder, she entwined their fingers together, much like when they were children. “You’re going to be a great father.” 

Something in his chest fluttered, and he had to bite his lip to keep from crying. “Thanks, Kash.” 

Without warning, their father burst into the bathroom, taking in the image of Freddie half shaved and bleeding sitting on the edge of the tub. 

“What is this?” he yelled. “We have a wedding in _two hours_ and you’re not even done! Up, up, get ready!” 

*

The Bulsaras arrived on time, despite Freddie’s best attempts not to. Jer all but dragged him down the stairs, yelling that his hair looked perfectly fine. The whole car ride to the registry office was spent with Freddie sweating, his hands shaking. It wasn’t necessarily that he was afraid that Regina wouldn’t show, it was that he was afraid that he would make a bad husband. Next to him, Kash grabbed his hand from where he was practically chewing off his nails, squeezing it tight. 

“It’s going to be fine,” she murmured, squeezing his hand tight again. 

Swallowing thickly, he nodded, looking away from the window for a brief moment before returning to gaze blankly at the buildings and cars passing. If everything went according to plan, in little under an hour, he’d be married and legally the father to the little bundle of cells growing inside Regina. 

He just prayed he didn’t fuck it all up. 

*

Bomi took an age and a half to park the car, leading his mother to nervously force Freddie out of the car, urging him to go on ahead so that Regina wouldn’t think she’d been stood up. Kash followed him out of the car, once again taking his hand as they made their way up the steps to the registry office where Regina was meant to be waiting. 

Brian had been the one instructed to pick her up, along with his parents, his girlfriend Chrissie, Tim, Beth, and Ruthie. The thought of the whole lot of them forced into their terrible band van brought the tiniest hint of a smile to his face, despite the gravitas of the whole day. 

“Where did Regina say she’d meet you?” Kash asked as she stood on her tiptoes, trying to look over the crowd of people. 

“We’re getting married at two-thirty,” Freddie admitted. “And that’s all I know.” 

“Freddie!” Kash rolled her eyes. “How is that supposed to be helpful?” 

“Gee, Kash, it’s not like I’ve ever been married before,” Freddie snarked, pulling a face. 

“Yes, but this is _your_ wedding!” 

“I’d rather thought of it as _our_ wedding, to be quite honest,” Regina pipped up from behind them. 

“Regina!” 

Freddie spun on his heel, unable to keep the smile off his face at the sight of her. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help the relief at not being left at the altar. He’d spent half the night laying away terrified that she would back out of their arrangement and leave him at the metaphorical alter, so to speak. 

“Darling, you look radiant,” Freddie breathed as he tugged her into a hug. 

It was true; she’d found a pale blue dress that swished down to her knees, matching her pumps. She’d twisted her hair up into a bun, pinned in place with a jeweled clip he’d noticed on her dresser when they were moving. Someone— Mrs. May, most likely— had found a birdcage veil for her to wear. In her hand was a modest bouquet of flowers. And, of course, her signature red lip was perfectly applied. 

“Not looking so bad yourself,” Regina winked with an overly theatrical once over. Over her shoulder, he could see his mother and father making their way to them, rushing as fast as his father’s bad knee would allow them. 

After that it was flurry of cheek kisses and hellos, allowing himself to be passed around the circle of friends and family they’d asked to join them. Mrs. May had already pulled out her handkerchief, dabbing at the corner of her eye every now and again. Chrissie, who’d been tasked with holding Regina’s purse, was beaming, gripping onto Brian’s hand for dear life. Beth and Ruthie, he noticed, hung towards the edge of the circle, eyeing Regina and Freddie wearily. 

“What’s the matter with sour puss and grapes over there,” Freddie hissed, leaning close to Regina’s ear. Regina chuckled under her breath, never taking her eye off where Jer and Mrs. May were talking. 

“They think I’ve rushed into this,” Regina hissed back, turning and pretending to pluck a hair from his suit. “Wait ‘til they hear you’ve knocked me up, then they’ll really disapprove.” 

Freddie didn’t bother biting back his laugh. “Speaking of which, darling, you’re positively glowing. I adore your dress; the color is spectacular.” 

“Well,” Regina smirked with a twinkle in her eye that spoke of trouble. “Couldn’t exactly wear white, now, could I?” 

Freddie snorted, turning it into an inelegant cough when everyone turned to look at him in question. 

“Anyways,” Regina added. “Can’t wait for this whole mess to be over. Are you alright? You look peakish.” 

“M’fine, just...just a little nervous.” 

She nodded sagely, leaning in closer and running her hand up and down his arm soothingly. 

“I figured,” she hummed. “That’s why if you were to look inside my purse, I’ve got you a pack of Silk Cuts and a flask of whisky.” 

If they weren’t already waiting for their wedding, he’d have proposed right then and there. 

“I love you,” he gushed, leaning over to peck her cheek. “You’re my favorite person in the whole wide world, Reg.” 

“I know,” she winked again. “Might as well, since you’re drinking for two.” 

“Three,” Freddie added, reaching out to touch her stomach. He was stopped, however, by her hand on his wrist, twisting it so that they were holding hands instead. 

“Beth and Ruthie don’t know,” Regina explained with a tight smile. “And I’d like it to stay that way. As far as anyone is concerned, it’s a honeymoon baby.” 

_Ah_. 

Now it was Freddie’s turn to smirk, grin wicked. “Guess you could say everything about me is fast, eh, Regina?” 

She wacked his shoulder, rolling her eyes at him with a snort. “Fast to finish, more like it.” 

That sent the two of them into peals of laughter, struggling to smother them into their palms like school kids. 

They were still attempting to quiet down when the Mays came over, Mrs. May pulling Freddie into yet another powerful hug, followed by a strong handshake from Mr. May. 

“I just keep telling your mother how excited I am for you two,” Mrs. May simpered, dapping at her eye once more. “Such a beautiful couple, Harold, aren’t they?” 

“Yes,” grunted Mr. May. 

“Thank you, dear, for inviting us,” Mrs. May continued, pinching at Regina’s cheek lovingly. Regina blushed. 

“Of course, Mrs. May,” she said sweetly. “You’re practically family.” 

That sent Mrs. May into another round of sniffling tears. “Such a shame that your mother couldn’t make it,” Mrs. May sniffed into her handkerchief. “So sorry to hear about your Nan. Do give her our best wishes, will you?” 

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Regina’s smile turn brittle as she ducked her head for a brief moment. 

“Of course,” Regina smiled, the corners of her eyes hard. “I’ll be sure to let them know.” 

Any further awkwardness was cut short by the clerk calling out Freddie’s name; “Mercury wedding? Please go to room eight.” 

“Room eight!” Jer repeated, rushing over to grab the two of them. “Come, come, room eight!” 

Regina and Freddie exchanged panicked glances; now or never. There was a slight moment where he thought Regina was going to panic, her eyes darting away from him towards the door. But the moment passed between one breath and the next, the tension fleeing from her shoulders as she smiled sunnily. 

“Let’s get this over with,” she announced. “I have it on good authority that Jer made _salli ma margi_ and I refuse to wait any longer to try it!” 

The group of them shuffled into room eight, Freddie and Regina getting shoved to the front. Before them stood a rather old man in a worn tweed suit jacket and a neatly dressed woman in a teal co-ord. 

“Good afternoon,” the man said in a rich voice roughed from years of smoking. “My name is Gerald Fitzgibbon and I am the lead registrar for the London Borough of Kensington and Chelsea. This is my colleague, Rita Grey. She will be acting as your legal witness.” 

“How do you do,” Rita smiled toothily, reaching out to shake both of their hands. “Congratulations on your wedding.” 

“Thank you,” Freddie and Regina said in unison, giggled at each other when they realized. 

“Now, the ceremony is to last about thirty minutes, give or take. Are these your intended witnesses?” Gerald asked with a clap of his hands. 

“Yes,” said Regina, motioning for the rest of them to take a seat on the law benches provided. 

“Wonderful! Do you have any questions for me before we begin?” 

Freddie shook his head, wiping his hands on his pants. His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest; he was about to get _married_. 

“Lovely! Let us begin then. Regina, Freddie, if you would please stand here before me, and face each other,” Gerlad instructed, beckoning the two of them further towards the back of the room, before a large window. 

Behind him, he could hear the shutter of Brian’s camera going off, and he swallowed thickly past the lump in his throat. Regina eyed him carefully, leaning in to straighten the knot on his tie. Again, the shutter clicked. 

“It’s not too late to back out now,” she whispered, quiet enough that he could barely hear her. 

“Never,” he whispered back, meaning it with his whole heart. “I’m in this as long as you are.” 

She smiled shakily, and for the first time all day, Freddie realized that she was probably just as nervous as he was, if not moreso. He grabbed her hands and held them tightly in his own, grounding the two of them. 

“Ready?” Geralt asked them quietly, a twinkle in his eye as though he’d heard every word they’d said. 

“Ready,” said Freddie with far more confidence than he’d had earlier. 

Geralt nodded, leaning back to face their friends and family. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the Registrar of the London Borough of Kensington and Chelesa for the wedding of Freddie Mercury and Regina Taylor. My name is Gerald Fitzgibbon and I will be conducting the ceremony. I must first of all mention that this place that we have now met has been duly sanctioned according to the law for the celebration of marriages and if any person present knows of any legal reason why these two people should not be joined in matrimony, the should declare it now.” 

Regina turned, glaring playfully. “Choose your next words carefully,” she teased. “I don’t want to hear any lies.” 

Their friends laughed; Freddie let out a breathless chuckle, still too terrified to do anything more than hold her hands for dear life. Gerald continued to speak about the beauty of matrimony, but Freddie was hearing none of it. 

There was a dull ringing in his ears as he stared at Regina, trying to do his best to keep from losing it as the gravity of their situation hit him. Regina needed someone who was going to be there for her, who could support her and her child. Freddie had an art degree and a shitty clothing store. He could give her barely a fifth of what she needed. He didn’t know the first thing about being a dad, or even a husband. What if he fucked it all up? 

Regina’s gaze fell on him heavy, her brow slightly furrowed as she watched him sweating out of his suit, terrified. 

_Are you okay?_ She mouthed, watching him. Despite everything, Regina was looking out for him. 

Regina was a better friend than he’d ever be. Regina was his best friend, his sister, the only person he ever wanted to spend the rest of his life with. She was smart, and beautiful; talented and braver than anyone else he’d ever met. And she chose _him_ to marry. She chose him to trust with her deepest secret— granted against her will— and she chose him to help her. She wouldn’t have accepted his offer of marriage if she had any doubts; he knew that. 

If she could do this, then so could he. 

Geralt said his name, jostling Freddie out of his panic. From the looks of it, he wasn’t fooling anyone. 

“Mr. Mercury,” Geralt coughed lightly. “We will now begin with an exchange of your vows. Will you take Regina Taylor to be your lawful wedded wife, to be loving, faithful, and loyal to her for the rest of your married life together?” 

Despite all his fears, all the worries and stress that he would never be enough, Freddie vowed in that moment that no matter what he would _try_. He would do everything in his power to be the best that he could be, to stand by Regina and offer her whatever he could do to help her, until the end of his days. He would be there for her and her child, through thick and thin, rain or shine. From this moment on, it was them against the world. 

“I will,” he said, meaning every bit of it. “I will,” he repeated again, quietly, just for Regina to hear. 

“And you, Regina, will you take Freddie Mercury to be your lawful wedded husband, to be loving, faithful, and loyal to her for the rest of your married life together?” 

She took a deep, shuddering breath, her eyes glancing first at the door, then their family, then back at him. For a second, he thought that maybe she, too, would get cold feet, but it passed with a smile. 

“I will,” she said, just as convincingly as Freddie. 

Whatever else Geralt wanted to say was lost in her eyes, the two of them shakily grinning at each other over their clasped hands, blind to anyone else in the room. Distantly, Freddie was aware of Kash and Brian running their rings up to Geralt, taking Regina’s in his hand and smoothly sliding it down her finger. Regina copied his movements, the two of them vowing to be faithful and loyal to each other. 

They were married. 

“And now,” Geralt beamed. “I have the greatest honor of declaring the two of you married. Freddie, you may now kiss your bride.” 

_Shit_. 

They locked eyes; immediately they burst into laughter. 

“Mrs. Mercury,” Freddie teased before grabbing her round the waist and dipping her back, swallowing her shriek of surprise with his mouth. It was chaste and sweet, a quick press of lips to lips, but binding all the same. When he finally let Regina up, that was it. They were married. 

“Christ,” Regina laughed when she was right side up. 

Their entire families were applauding behind them, but he only had eyes for Regina, who was smiling so wide her face could have cracked. 

“We’re married,” he grinned, fully aware that he, too, was grinning like a fool. 

“We are,” she laughed again, bright amongst the chaos of the room. 

“Not quite,” interrupted Rita. “I need the two of you to sign here— and here...and we’ll need signatures from your intended witnesses.” 

Regina signed first, her signature loopy and graceful. Freddie was practically blown over by the shock of seeing her sign ‘Regina Mercury’ — it made it real. Dazedly, he signed his own name next to her’s, giggling the whole while. 

“Mrs. Mercury,” he repeated, reaching out to grab her hand. “You’re Mrs. Mercury.” 

“And you’ve got my lippy all over your face,” Regina rolled her eyes, but her tone was soft as she swiped at his lips with her thumb. “C’mere, you look like you’ve got a rash.” 

“We’re married,” he cackled, half hysterical from the emotional rollercoaster he’d been through all day long. “We’re _married_.” 

He scooped her up, spinning her around as they laughed and laughed, overwhelmed with joy. 

They were _married_. 

*

Tim had driven his own car to the registrar; unsurprisingly there hadn’t been near enough room for the whole lot of them in the van, so he had opted to drive his own car, at least there. As part of his wedding gift, he offered his beetle up for the two of them, complete with “just married” sign and ribbons. 

“I mean this with all my heart,” Regina sighed, taking in the sight of Tim’s old rust bucket and the adorning decorations. “I hate you.” 

“Congrats on the wedding Reg, I knew you always had it in you,” Tim teased as he joking slapped her on her back. “Here’s the keys— Freddie, I know for a fact you still don’t have your license, don’t even look at the wheel.” 

Freddie slung an arm around Regina’s shoulders, pulling her in tight. “Just how I always pictured this day would happen, getting driven home by my lovely bride in the world’s worst car.” 

Warningly, Tim gestured towards the van; “If you’d rather load up in the van, be my guest.” 

“We love you,” Regina said immediately, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek. “See you at the Bulsara’s?” 

Tim chuckled, wrapping her up in a hug. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Hey, since Cecelia dumped me, does that mean I’m eligible for the bouquet toss?” 

With a huff, Regina rolled her eyes, chucking the meager bouquet into his arms. “I’ll do you one better. Catch.” 

Behind them, Chrissie let out a sort of strangled noise that had the two of them immediately looking away, hurrying towards the car, letting her protests fall on deaf ears behind her. 

Freddie beat Regina to the driver’s side, ignoring her unimpressed look to open the door for her, gesturing for her to climb in. 

“Wife,” he bowed. 

“Husband,” she huffed. “A girl could get used to this.” 

His next witty retort was cut off by Beth calling out Regina’s name, the two of them hurrying down the steps towards them. With a slight frown, Regina climbed back out of the car, standing between the door and the seat. 

“Beth, Ruthie, hi! If you just go with Brian, they’ll take you two to Freddie’s house,” Regina said, raising one hand to shield her eyes from the late afternoon sun. “It’s really close—” 

“Sorry, I thought you knew,” Beth winced, wringing her hands in front of her. “Ruthie and I, we, uh, we can’t go, we’ve got plans—” 

“Oh…” 

“Yeah, Regina, m’sorry, but this was all so last minute, and we couldn’t cancel—” 

Regina quickly shook her head, laughing sardonically as she pasted on a smile. “No, of course, I completely understand. Erm, well, thank you for coming!” 

There was a brief awkward moment where neither of them clearly knew what to do before Beth ducked in for a quick hug, patting Regina awkwardly on the back, Ruthie following suit. 

“Congratulations, Regina,” Beth ducked her head. “I hope...I hope you’re really happy.” 

“I will be, Beth.” Regina stepped forward and hugged her again. “Thank you for coming. I’m...I’m really going to miss living with you two.” 

At that, Ruthie, who had stayed quiet, let out a wet chuckle, pressing her hand to her mouth briefly before twisting a finger into one of the tightly coiled curls she’d done that morning. 

“Don’t you dare make me sad, Regina, this is a happy day,” Ruthie warned. “I won’t have it.” 

“The happiest,” Regina agreed. 

Freddie took the impending silence to step forward, offering his hand for them to shake and kissing their proffered cheeks. 

“Thanks for coming,” he said. “We’ll have to have you over for dinner as soon as we’re settled in.” 

“We’ll order in!” Regina exclaimed, noticing Beth’s look of horror. “I won’t cook, no, no, we’ll order in!” 

“Thank God,” Ruthie joked, for the first time addressing Freddie. “I couldn’t stomach another home cooked meal from Regina. You’re going to be eating a lot of take away, Freddie.” 

He shrugged good heartedly, “I can’t complain if it means keeping my health.” 

They all shared a laugh before Beth and Ruthie begged off, waving and shouting congratulations to Regina over their shoulders as they made for the taxi stand. Regina watched them go, waving until they turned away from view. For the briefest moments, she waited, watching, an unreadable look on her face, before she turned back to Freddie. 

“I wasn’t kidding about the _salli ma margi_ ,” she said seriously, her hand pressed to the barely there curve of her stomach. “I’ve been craving it all week and if I don’t get it soon I’m eating you.” 

Freddie chuckled, “Who am I to stand between my lovely bride and her meal? _Après-toi, ma chère_.” 

*

Unsurprisingly, they were the last to arrive, welcomed into the house with a shower of rice and applause. Jer and Mrs. May immediately fell upon the couple, kissing them enthusiastically and shoving glasses of sparkling apple juice and champagne into their respective hands. Freddie felt blinded by the flash of Brian’s camera, blinking away the daze as he stumbled through the house. Despite it all, he wouldn’t have wiped the smile off his face even if he could have; this was by far and large the happiest he’d ever been. 

All his friends and family sitting together at a table, raising their glasses in toasts to his and Regina’s future, telling stories and reminiscing on the past. Regina, sat by his side, glowed like never before, beaming from ear to ear as she sampled each and every dish Jer had prepared— though showed definitive preference for the _salli ma margi_. 

By the sixth toast to their good health, Freddie felt as though he could float away on champagne bubbles, dizzy with joy. 

“I would do anything to have a glass of champagne,” Regina moaned, staring at his flute longingly. “Now I understand the real problems with a shotgun wedding.” 

“Darling,” Freddie promised, sloshing his champagne onto the floor with his gesture. “When you have the baby, I’ll fill the whole house with champagne, just for you.” 

“We’ll toast it in the hospital!” Brian shouted from across the room. 

“To the baby!” Chrissie added, holding her glass high. 

Everyone followed suit, toasting to the baby yet to be born. Regina’s eyes looked suspiciously wet around the corners as she patted her stomach lovingly. 

“To the baby,” she repeated, clearing her throat. “Who will be the luckiest child in all of England, with you lot there for it.” 

That set everyone off again, toasting and crying, coming up to rub at her still flat stomach. His arm slung around Regina’s shoulders, watching the people he loved most celebrate their future, Freddie could help but think that if he were to die right there, he’d die a happy man. 

*

The party went into the wee hours of the morning. It had been a wonderful affair full of laughter and drinking, stuffing themselves full of food. After dinner, Freddie threw on _Unchained Melody_ just to watch Regina grimace, pulling her in close and slowly waltzing her around the living room, singing the whole while in her ear, ignoring her protests. 

“We need a first dance!” he insisted, refusing to let go of her, twisting her attempt at an escape into some sort of intricate spin. “It’s tradition!” 

As revenge, Regina took extreme delight smashing a piece of Jer’s homemade carrot cake into Freddie’s face, all of which was lovingly caught on camera by a far-too gleeful Kashmira. 

“It’s tradition,” Regina said sweetly, ducking behind his mother when he attempted to retaliate. 

They danced some more, and ate more, and drank until Freddie had collapsed on the couch, dozing off on Regina’s shoulder.

It was only then that Brian and Tim scooped him up under the armpits and carried him out to the car, having Regina drive them back to their flat. Somehow the three of them managed to get him through the front door and slung onto the bed, leaving with another series of kisses to her cheeks and shouts of congratulations towards the bed. 

“C’mere,” huffed Regina, manhandling him this way and that as she undressed him, tugging his jacket and shoes off. “You can’t sleep like this, you’ll strangle yourself in the middle of the night.” 

“M’fine,” he grunted, doing his best to swat at her hands as she unknotted his tie. “Sleep time.” 

Chuckling, Regina unbuttoned his pants despite his protests and managed to rip his trousers off him, nearly tumbling over in the process. 

“Regina!” he all but shrieked, trying to cover himself up. 

“Oh, come off it,” she laughed as she began hanging his suit over the back of their lone raggedy armchair. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Stop worrying about your virtue, you’ll go unmolested.” 

Blearily, he watched her turn around, reaching up behind to unzip her dress, letting it pool around her waist as she tugged her nightgown on over her head, only dropping the dress when she was properly covered. 

“Why the fuck are you wearing that?” Freddie grumbled, squinting as he hoisted himself up onto his elbows. “It’s hideous.” 

“Thanks,” she said dryly, pulling pins from her hair and letting it fall down around her shoulders. “You know just what to say on a girl’s wedding night to make her feel like a princess.” 

“It looks like something a grandma would wear,” he continued, frowning at the flannel nightie with much prejudice. “I’ve never seen you in anything that stupid.” 

“Really, darling, stop with the flattery, I can’t control myself when you say such sweet things,” Regina drawled, rolling her eyes. “Do you want to brush your teeth or are you just going to pass out?” 

“M’gonna pass out,” Freddie admitted, flopping onto his back. “The room’s spinning.” 

Dimly, he could hear the sink running as she brushed her teeth, puttering around the bathroom. His first night as a married man, and he was too drunk to even brush his teeth. 

“Regina!” he shouted, still flat on his back. There was a pause, then— 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m married!” he bellowed. “I’m married!” 

“I know, mate,” Regina chuckled, ducking out of the bathroom to rest one hip against the doorframe as she wiped the remainder of her makeup off her eyes. “I was there.” 

“I married _you_ ,” he added, grinning dopely. “We’re married.” 

“Fuck, I wish I’d had half of what you’ve had to drink.” 

“You can’t though,” Freddie said, sad. “Because of the baby.” Regina flicked off the light to the bathroom and padded her way to the couch where she began throwing pillows and cushions onto the floor. “What are you doing?” 

“Making the bed,” said Regina, throwing the last cushion onto the floor. 

Freddie struggled to sit up, frowning. “You can’t sleep on the pull out! You’re pregnant!” 

“It’s fine,” she grunted, tugging the bed from the couch frame. 

“It’s not fine! You’re pregnant, you should get the bed,” Freddie insisted, trying to get to his feet. “It’ll hurt the baby!” 

“Fred, the baby’s barely two inches long,” Regina said matter of fact. “It’s not going to get hurt if I sleep on the pullout. Plus, you’re drunk, you should get the bed.” 

“No! It’s your wedding night—” 

“ — _our_ wedding night—” 

“ — you should get the bed!” 

“It’s _fine_ ,” she insisted, shaking out one of the blankets and getting ready to make it. Freddie, in an attempt to be a gentleman, promptly rolled off the bed and onto the floor, his face smashed into the carpet. 

“Ow,” he said thickly, blinking back tears. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” 

“Reggie,” Freddie whined, moving to grab at his nose. “Is my nose broken? I think I broke my nose.” 

“You didn’t break your nose,” she huffed, reaching down and hoisting him back up by the back of his undershirt. Like a newborn calf, he wobbled his way onto two legs and let her flop him back onto the bed, this time face up. Grabbing his hand, she placed it on his face, letting him poke and prod at his face, proving that it was, in fact, intact. 

“Now,” Regina grunted, rolling him over so she could untuck the blankets from the corner, tossing the heavy duvet over his chest. “Go to _sleep_. And don’t even think about getting first turn at the bathroom in the morning, it’s mine.” 

“No,” Freddie cried, grabbing at her arm when she went to walk back to the pull out. “Don’t sleep on the pull out couch, it’s your wedding night!” 

“We’ve covered this,” she rolled her eyes, exasperated. “You’ve got the bed, I’ll get the couch.” 

“No, we can _both_ have the bed,” he insisted, pulling her. Turns out, he didn’t know his own strength, as the force of his pull yanked her across the bed, her elbow planting straight into his gut as the full force of her weight landed on him. 

“ _Oomf_.” 

“Shit! Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” wheezed Freddie, struggling to breathe. “It’s fine.” 

“Jesus, Fred,” Regina huffed out a little laugh, repositioning herself on the bed, careful to keep knees and elbows to herself. It took a moment for her to shift and shuffle her way into a more comfortable position, but eventually found it, snuggling down under the blankets. 

“Isn’t this better?”

“Shh, don’t talk, I’m sleeping.” 

Freddie laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, still irrevocably happy. 

“Hey, Regina?” he hissed, rolling over onto his side to stare at her profile in the low light.

“What?” She cracked open one eye, glaring at him. 

“I’m glad we’re married.” 

Smiling softly, she twisted her hand under the blankets until she found his, intertwining their fingers together. “Me, too, Fred.” 

They fell asleep together, hands still entwined, faces turned to each other. 

***

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be finished for lo's birthday....back in february. however, i realized (in february) that this would be a minimum of 100k if i continued, and there was no way i would finish it in time. there will probably (maybe) be a few more updates, and more to come, but i can't promise it would be any time soon. knowing me, expect another chapter in a year or two. 
> 
> (@talkingismylifewrites on tumblr)


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